AfPrNRLF 


^B    307    77T 


OF  1H|« 

UNIVERSITY 


INTE^^^V     SERIES. 


HE 


FIFTH   READER: 


von    THE     USE    OF 


PUBLIC  AND  PRIVATE  SCHOOLS. 


AN  INTRODUCTORY  TREATISE  ON  ELOCUTION  BY 
PROF.  MARK   BAILEY. 


By   G.   S.  HILLAKD. 


BOSTON: 

NEW  YORK:  J.  W.  SCHERMERHOHN  &  CO. 
PORTLAND,    ME.:    BAILEY    AND    NOYES. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1863,  by 

GEOKGE    S.    HILLAKI), 

In  the  Clerk-s  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusettfl. 

EDUCATIOH  LIBR;, 


n 

PREFACE.         ^Jiu^. 


The  FrFTH  Reader  is  intended  for  advanced  classes  in  pub- 
lic and  private  schools.  It  contains  some  of  the  pieces  in  the 
Second  Class  Reader  of  the  former  series,  which  have  been 
most  approved  by  teachers ;  but  the  greater  part  of  the  con- 
tents is  new.  The  aim  of  the  compiler  has  been  to  include  as 
wide  a  range  of  subjects  as  was  possible,  so  that  the  powers 
of  the  pupils  might  be  trained  by  various  forms  of  expression, 
and  different  kinds  of  rhetorical  style.  Wliile  the  teaching 
of  the  art  of  reading  has  been  made  a  paramount  object,  the 
compiler  has  constantly  borne  in  mind  the  importance  of 
choosing  such  selections  as  inculcate  sound  morals  and 
patriotic  sentiment,  and  aid  in  the  formation  of  a  good 
literary  taste.  Brief  biographical  and  explanatory  notices 
have  been  prefixed  to  most  of  the  selections ;  and  at  the  end 
of  each  piece  the  pronunciation  and  definition  of  the  most 
difficult  words  have  been  given.  This  latter  is  a  feature 
which,  it  is  hoped,  will  be  approved  by  teachers. 

The  introductory  portion,  on  reading  and  the  training  of 
the  vocal  organs,  is  mainly  the  same  as  that  found  in  the 
Sixth  Reader,  which  was  prepared  for  that  work  by  Pro- 
fessor Makk  Bailey  of  Yale  College. 


M5770r;7 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2008  witin  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcliive.org/details/fiftlireaderforusOOIiillricli 


CONTENTS, 


ARTICULATION. 

Table  of  Vowel  Sounds, ••••••  2 

Table  of  Consonant  Sounds, •••••  3 

Exercises  on  the  Vowel  Sounds •••  4 

Vowel  Sounds  in  Unaccented  Syllables, 6 

Exercises  on  the  Consonant  Sounds, 7 

INTRODUCTORY  TREATISE  ON  ELOCUTION. 

Fbeface, •••••••••••••11 

Part  I., 13 

Method  of  Analysis 13 

Different  Kinds  or  Classes  of  Emotion,  .•••.••     15 

Vocal  Expression, , 16 

Elements  of  Vocal  Expression, 16 

Past  II.      PriXCIPLES    and    IlLUSTEATIONS    of    THK  KliEKBNTS 

OF  Vocal  Expressiox,    ..' 18 

Force, .•••••.18 

Time, 24 

The  Slides 29 

Pitch, •    •     •    .     40 

Volume, ,.••..42 

Stress, ••••••43 

Quality  of  Voice, ••••••••48 

READING    LESSONS. 
PROSE. 

ftXSSOV. 

1.  The  Two  Roads, ,  Richter,    61 

2.  A  Child's  Dream  of  a  Star, Dickens.    63 

6.  The  Forgiven  Debt L,  M.  Sargent.    69 


VI  CONTENTS. 

6.  An  Indian  Stratagem, 73 

9.  Memorials  of  Washington  and  Franklin,    ....•,,  79 

.10.  Memorials  of  Washington  and  Franklin,  concluded,     ...  84 

14.  A  Good  Investment, Freeman  Hunt.  98 

15.  The  Chinese  Prisoner, Thomas  Percival.  103 

18.  Loss  of  the  Arctic, Beecher.  108 

20.  Little  Edward, Mrs.  Stowe.  114 

21.  Little  Edward,  concluded «'        "        117 

25.  Washington, Lee.  125 

26.  Cousin  Deborah's  Legacy, Chantbers's  Journal.  126 

29.  The  Hard-hearted  Rich  Man,   ,     .     ,  New  Monthly/  Magazine.  135 

30.  Bobolink Irving.  137 

32.  The  Progress  of  Humanity •     .     .    Sumner.  144 

35.  A  Lion  Hunt Gerard.  151 

36.  The  \Maale  Fishery, North  American  Review.  155 

38.  The  American  Indian,     •.,.,..     Charles  Sprague.  160 

39.  Mount  Auburn, Stori/.  162 

41.  Anecdote  of  Richard  Jackson,     •     .    London  Quarterly  Rev.  169 

42.  The  Atmosphere, Quarterly  Review.  171 

45.  Motives  to  Intellectual  Action  in  America,     •    •     .    liillard.  177 

46.  The  Pine  Tree  Shillings, Hawthorne.  180 

47.  Behind  Time, •    •    .    .    •    Freeman  Hunt.  184 

61.  A  Storm  at  Sea, Hughes.  192 

62.  Speech  on  the  Reception  of  the  Sauks  and  Foxes, .      Everett.  197 

63.  The  Irreparable  Past, Robertson.  190 

65.  Lessons  of  Spring, t     .     .     .     Greenwood.  206 

66.  Birds •    ♦    .   Knickerbocker  Magazine.  208 

67.  Birds,  concluded, "  ««  211 

68.  After  IMarriage, Sheridan.  214 

62.  Contrast  between  Adams  and  Napoleon Setcard.  223 

65.  Extract  from  Emmet's  Speech Emmet.  235 

67.  Limit  to  Human  Dominion, Swain.  240 

68.  A  Mosquito  Hunt, Basil  Hall.  244 

71.  Encounter  between  an  Eagle  and  a  Salmon,    Life  in  the  Woods.  251 

72.  The  Mocking  Bird,  ....,,..    Alexander  Wilson.  254 

75.  The  Approach  of  Day, Everett.  260 

78.  The  Death  of  the  Little  Scholar Dickens,  273 

80.  The  Character  of  Greene, Headley.  278 

82.  Peter  the  Great, Macaiday.  287 

R3.  The  Bunker  Hill  Monument, Webster.  292 

S5.  The  White-headed  Eagle, AUxa^er  Wilson.  296 

^.  The  Scholar's  Mission, •    ,     Putnam,  298 


CONTENTS.  Vii 

89.  National  Monument  to  Washington, Wiitthrop.  307 

92.  Elevating  Influence  of  a  Liberal  Education,     ,    .       Walker.  314 

95.  A  Curtain  Lecture  of  Mrs.  Caudle,    .....       Jerrold.  3'22 

98.  Duty  of  American  Citizens Douglas.  330 

99.  Liberty  and  Union, Webster.  332 

101.  Speech  on  the  Reform  Bill, Brougham.  338 

105.  The  Duty  of  American  Citizens, Everett.  348 

106.  Supposed  Speech  of  Regulus  to  the  Carthaginians,  E,  Kellogg.  350 

108.  Appeal  for  Ireland Cfoy.  355 

209.  A  Good  Daughter, Palfrey.  357 

113.  Labor  and  Genius,      .     .    ' Sydney  Smith.  361 

115.  The  Religious  Character  of  President  Lincoln,    D.  P.  Gtirleg.  307 

117.  Obedience  to  Law  the  Duty  of  Good  Men,      .     .     .J.  Holt.  371 

118.  Our  Heroes, J.  A.  Aiulreio.  373 

119.  The  Responsibilities  of  American  Citizens, .     .     .     .     Storg.  375 

POETRY. 

3.  One  by  One Household  Words.    67 

4.  How  sleep  the  Brave, Collin^.     68 

7.  The  Loss  of  the  Royal  George,      ......       Cowper.     76 

8.  The  Sunbeam Mi's.  Ilemans.     78 

11.  William  Tell, Knowles.     87 

12.  The  Bell  of  the  Atlantic,     .......    Mrs.  Sigounmj.     93 

13.  The  Knight's  Toast, 96 

16.  The  Lake  of  the  Dismal  Swamp, Moore.  105 

17.  Woodman,  spare  that  Tree, Morris.  107 

19.  The  Song  of  the  Forge .  HI 

22.  The  Coral  Grove, J.  G.  Percival  121 

23.  Song  of  Rebecca,  the  Jewess, ......    Waltei-  Scott.  122 

24.  The  Soldier's  Dream, Campbell.  124 

27.  The  Three  Mighty, Keto  Monthly  Magazine.  130 

28.  Marco  Bozzaris, Halkck.  132 

31.  The  Chameleon Merrick.  141 

33.  The  Old  Oaken  Bucket, Woodworth.  147 

34.  Ivan  the  Czar Mrs.  Remans.  148 

37.  The  Solitude  of  Alexander  Selkirk, Cowper.  158 

40.  A  Battle  in  the  Highlands, Walter  Scott.  165 

43.  Song  of  the  Union, Cummings.  173 

44.  The  Burial  of  Moses .  174 

48.  Evil  Influence  of  Scepticism, ,     .    Campbell.  187 

49.  The  River  Saco Lyons.  189 


VIU  CONTENTS. 

50.  David's  Lament  for  Absalom, Willis.  191 

64.  The  Combat, Walter  Scott.  201 

59.  The  Passage, Uhland.  218 

60.  Emgen  on  the  Rhine, Mrs.  Nortmi.  219 

61.  The  Voice  of  the  Wares Mrs.  Ilemans.  221 

63.  Saladin  and  Malek  Adhel,  .     ,     .      New  Monthly  Magazine.  227 

64.  City  and  Country, Holmes.  233 

66.  National  Hymn, S.  F.  Smith.  239 

69.  New  England, J.  G.  Percival.  248 

70.  A  Modest  Wit, 249 

73.  The  Inquiry 257 

74.  Tubal  Cain Mackay.  258 

*?!     76.  Edinburgh  after  Flodden Aytoun.  263 

77.  Dialogue  between  Antony  and  Ventidius, ....  Dryden.  268 

79.  Ureak,  Break,  Break, •     .     .     .    Tennyson.  277 

81.  Iloratius  at  the  Bridge,  .•••••...   Macaulay.  281 

84.  The  Arsenal  at  Springfield,     » LongfeUoto.  294 

87.  The  Battle  Field Bryant.  300 

88.  The  Death  Scene  in  Ion, Talfourd.  302 

90.  Arnold  Winkelried, Montgomei-y.  310 

91.  Speech  of  Marullus Shakspeare.  313 

93.  Palestine, Whittiei'.  317 

94.  The  Song  of  the  Shirt, Hood.  319 

96.  Bernardo  del  Carpio,      •••••••.    Mrs.  Hemans.  325 

97.  Clarence's  Dream, Shakspeare.  327 

100.  Soliloquy  of  the  Dying  Alchemist, Willis.  334 

102.  Ode  to  the  Sea  Serpent, 340 

103.  The  Abbot  and  Robert  Bruce, Walter  Scott.  343 

104.  Lines  on  a  Skeleton, 346 

107.  The  Battle  of  Naseby, Macaulay.  353 

110.  Army  Hymn,  .••••••••••••     Holmes.  359 

111.  The  Minstrel  Boy Moore.  360 

112.  The  Greeks  at  Thermopylae,  .    ••••••.•      Byron.  360 

114.  Barbara  Frietchie, Whittier.  365 

116.  Claribel's  Prayer, X,  Palmer.  369 


THE   FIFTH    READER. 


ARTICULATION". 

Articulation  is  the  utterance  of  the  various  vocal 
sounds  represented  by  letters,  and  combinations  of  let- 
ters, in  syllables. 

A  Vowel  is  a  letter  which  represents  a  free  and  uninter- 
rupted sound  of  the  human  voice. 

A  Conso7iant  is  a  letter  which  cannot  be  sounded,  or 
but  imperfectly,  without  the  aid  of  a  vowel. 

A  Letter  is  not  itself  a  sound,  but  only  the  sign  of  a 
sound.  The  whole  number  of  English  sounds,  which,  for 
convenience,  may  be  classed  as  "  Elementary ^^  or  essen- 
tially simple,  is  forty-four.  They  are  those  indicated  in 
the  following  tables  of  vowels  and  consonants  (in  large 
type) ;  also,  that  of  A  long  before  i?,  and  A  intermediate. 
Some  of  these,  however,  are  by  some  authors  regarded  as 
compound  sounds. 

Some  of  the  letters  represent  several  elementary  sounds, 
and  an  elementary  sound  is  sometimes  represented  by 
more  than  one  letter.  / 

An  Equivalent  is  a  letter,  or  a  combination  of  letters, 
used  to  represent  an  elementary  sound  more  appropriately 
represented  by  another  letter  or  letters. 

The  equivalents  given  in  the  following  tables  are  those 
of  most  common  occurrence. 

1  :^ 


ARTICULATION. 


TABLE  OF  VOWEL   SOUNDS. 

This  table  Is  designed  for  an  exercise  upon  the  vowel  elements.  These  should 
be  pronounced  alone  as  well  as  in  combination  with  tlie  words  given  as  exam- 
ples. Let  the  class  first  pronounce  tlie  table  in  order,  thus  :  A  long,  Fate,  hi 
A  short.  Fat,  a,  &c. ;  tlion  pronounce  the  column  of  elements  alone. 

Ilemarks  on  the  sounds  of  the  letters  will  be  found  on  page  1  j  also,  uudcz 
the  Exercises  on  the  vowel  and  the  consonant  sounds. 


Name. 

A  long 
A  short 

Example.         E 

Fate 
Fat 

LEMENT. 

a 

Name. 

0  long  and 
close         ' 

Example.    Element. 

M6ve         0 

A  Italian 

Far 

a 

U  long 

Tube 

U 

A  broad 

Fall 

a 

U  short 

Tub 

u 

E  long 
E  short 

Meto 
Met 

e 

U  middle  or 
obtuse 

IfuII 

u 

I    long 

Pine 

1 

U  short  and 

l^ur 

u 

I    short 

Pin 

1 

obtuse 

0  long 

Note 

0 

01  andOY 

Boil 

ot 

0  short 

N8t 

8 

OUandOW 

LENTS. 

Bound 

oa 

Tji     (  short  and  obtuse,  1  TT.._             " 
^     ]     like  u  in  Fur     i  "^'^             ^ 
I        like  E  long              3Iachine     £ 
T      <  short  and  obtuse, )  c-.               •• 
A      1     like  U  in  Fur      j  ^"^              1 
O       like  A  broad           Nor             0 

U     like  0  in  Move        Eille 

Y  like  1  long               Type 

Y  like  I  short             Symbol 

yr    <  short  and  obtuse, )  ^.^vrtlo 
1     1     likeuinFUr      piJ^t'e 

ft 

.y 
y 
y 

0       like  U  short           S6n 

6 

EW  like  U  long 

New 

ew 

The  following  vowel  sounds  cannot  be  easily  pronounced  alone,  as  distinct 
elements,  so  as  to  be  distinguished  from  some  of  the  other  sounds.  See  re. 
inai'ks  on  a  long  before  r,  a  intermediate,  and  on  the  obscure  sounds,  page   5. 


Name.  Examples. 

A  long  before  R  .  .  .   .  Fire,   pAir. 
A  intermediate    ....  Fftst,   branch. 
A  slight  or  obscure   .  .  Lisir,   palace. 
E  like  A  long  before  R  Heir,  there. 
E  slight  or  obscure   ,  ,  Brier,  fu§l. 


Name.  Examples. 

I  slight  or  obscure  .  Rujn,  ability. 
O  slight  or  obscure  .  Actor,  confess, 
U  sliglit  or  obscure  .  Sulphur  famoaa 
Y  slight  or  obscure  .  Truly,     envy. 


ARTICULATION 


TABLE  OF  CONSONANT  oOT'lr  ^S. 

This  table  should  be  treated  by  tlie  class  in  the  same  manner  as  the  table 
of  vowel  sounds.  The  sound  of  a  consonant  may  be  ascertained  by  pronouncing 
a  word  containing  it  in  a  slow  and  forcible  manner. 

Vocal  Consonants  are  those  uttered  with  a  slight  degree  of  vooality,  but 
less  tlian  that  of  a  vowel.    They  are  formed  with  a  vibration  ofthe  vo«;d  cliords. 

Aspirate  Consonants  are  those  in  which  the  pure  breath  alone  is  heard 
They  are  formed  without  any  vibration  of  the  vocal  cliords. 

VOCAL  CONSONANTS.i 


Name. 

Example.       1 

:leiient. 

Name. 

Example.       ELEaEsr 

B 

Babe 

b 

R     (trilled)   Rap 

r 

D 

Did 

d 

R  (untrilled)  Nor 

r 

G  liard 

Gag 

g 

TH    soft 

Thine 

th 

J 

Joy 

J 

Y 

Valve 

V 

L 

Lull 

1 

W 

Wine 

w 

M 

Maim 

m 

Y 

Yes 

7 

N 

Nun 

n 

Z 

Zeal 

z 

NG 

Sing 

ng 

ZH  (or  Z) 

Azure 

zh 

ASPIRATE  C 

ONSONANTS. 

CH 

Church 

ch 

T 

Tent 

t 

F 

Fife 

f 

S 

Seal 

s 

ir 

Hold 

h 

SH 

Shine 

sh 

K 

Kirk 

k 

TH    sharp 

Thin 

th 

p 

Pipe 

P 

lLENTS. 

C  son:,  like  s 

Cease 

9 

S  soft,  like  z 

Muse 

f 

C  hard,  like  k 

jeake 

fi 

S  like  zh 

Vision 

8 

Ch  hard,  like  k 

f)hasm 

Sh 

Q  like  k 

Coquette 

q 

Ch  soft,  like  sh 

(;hais0 

9h 

X  like  ks 

Tax 

X 

G  soft,  like  j 

^iant 

t 

X  like  gz 

Exalt 

? 

Vh  like  f 

Seraph 

ph 

Q  has  the  sound  of  k,  and  is  always  followed  by  n,  which,  in  this  position,  com 
monly  has  the  sound  ofw,  but  is  sometimes  silent. 
WH  is  an  aspirated  w,  pronounced  as  if  written  hw. 


1  Sometimes  called  Subvocals,  or  Subtonlcs. 

2  H  sounded  before  a  vowel,  is  an  expulsion  of  the  breath  after  the  crga» 
are  iu  a  position  to  sound  the  vowel. 


ARTICULATION. 


EXERCISES   ON  THE  VOWEL   SOUNDS. 

In  pronouncing  the  words  in  the  following  exercises,  special  attention  should 
be  given  to  the  precise  sound  of  the  letters  Italicized.  The  sounds  of  the  let 
ters  in  Italics  are  the  same  as  the  sound  of  the  vowel  at  the  head  of  the 
paragraph. 

a,   long,  as  in  fate.  —  Blame,  sail,  obey,  cambric,  ancient, 

ve*n,  weigh,  patron,  lava,  patriot. 
a,   short,  as  in  fSit.  —  Bad,  had,  can,  cannon,  fancy,  plazd, 

have,  scath,  inhabit,  companion,  national. 
a,   Italian,  as  in  fiir.  —  ^re,  guitar,  mart,  alarm,  father, 

heart,  hearth,  gward,  dai^nt,  hawnt,  gatnitlet,  jaundice. 
a,  broad,  as  in  fall ;  and  o,  as  in  nor.  —  Ball,  tall,  form, 

storm,  salt,  oz^ght,  fowght,  a^^ger,  aioful,  water,  awthor, 

always,  cat^se,  laz^yer,  balsam,  bawble. 
a  ^  as  in  fare ;  and  e,  as  in  there.  —  Dare,  rare,  pair,  air, 

share,  bear,  snare,  where,  heir,  stare,  pare. 
a  %  as  in  fast.  —  Blast,  chance,  trance,  branch,  grasp,  graft, 

grant,  grass,  class,  mastiff,  pasture,  plaster,  chancellor. 
e,   long,  as  in  mete  ;  and  i,  as  in  marine.  —  Theme,  scene, 

ravine,  pique,  key,  fiend,  grieve,  treaty,  C^sar,  critique, 

belief,  receive,  receipt,  qtia^,  lenient,  inherent. 
e,   short,  as  in  met.  —  Bed,  bread,  tepid,  said,  says,  friend, 

leopard,  preface,  heroism,  heifer,  again,  realm,  many,  any, 

get,  yes,  chest,  beneficent. 
j,  long,  as  in  pine;  and  y,  as  in  bp.  —  Vine,  child,  fly, 

height,  type,  isle,  bwy,  satiety,  gwide,  gwile,  flight,  ally, 

apply,  tiny,  sinecure. 
I,  short,  as  in  pin/  and  y,  as  in  myth.  —  Prince,  quince, 

lyric,  servile,  agile,  husj,  business,  sieve,  cygnet,  cynic, 

cylinder,  Ttalian,  tribune 
0,   long,  as  in  note. — Dome,  glory,  more,  both,  oath,  foe, 

doi^gh,  gloi^,  yeoman,  beai^,  coeval,  encroach. 
0  ^  short,  as  in  not.  —  Rob,  sob,  dot,  got,  was,  wand,  watch, 

from,  prompt,  prospect,  fossil,  docile. 


ARTICULATION.  £^ 

Oj  long  and  close,  as  in  move ;  and  w,  as  in  rule.  —  Proj'-e, 

lose,  mood,  moon,  root,  remove,  smooth,  ri^de,  rwral, 

fruitless,  trwant,  pri/dent,  br?<tal. 
U,  long,  as  in  tube  ;  and  ew,  as  in  new.  —  T^^ne,  fwse,  dwty, 

iew,  pew7,  purswv't,  endwre,  be«wtiful,  revolution. 
U,  short,  as  in  titb ;  and  o,  as  in  son.  —  T^^n,  f^^n,  swch, 

cli^tch,  dove,  does,  rowgh,  son,  ton,  tongue,  nothing, 
n,  middle,  as  m  fiill.  —  Bz^sh,  pz^sh,  woidd,  should,  wolf, 

pzdpit,  cz/shion,  cz^ckoo,  wool,  woollen,  foot,  hohk. 
U,  short  and  obtuse,  as  in  fur  ;  e,  as  in  her  ;  i,  as  in  fir/ 

and  y,  as  in  myrrh.  —  Bwrn,  mt^rmur,  farther,  herd,  fern, 

person,  merge,  mercy,  sir,  bird,  virtue,  dirk,  dirt,  mirth, 

mi/rrh,  myrtle,  syrtis. 
01,  as  in  voice  ;  and  oy^  as  in  hoy.  —  Coil,  void,  eoin,  joint, 

joist,  employ,  rejoice,  embroil,  foible,  oyster, 
OU,  as   in  sound;    and  oic,  as  in  now.  —  Poimd,  prowd, 

broion,  toicn,  doi^bt,  devoi^t,  plol^gh,  troi^t,  \owq\  aroimd. 

1  The  sound  of  a  marked  thus  [a]  is  that  of  long  a  qualified  by  being  followed 
by  the  letter  r.  Some  orthoepists  regar.;  it  as  sliort  e  prolonged.  The  com- 
mon  pronunciation  of  this  class  of  words,  in  some  parts  of  the  United  States, 
is,  to  give  the  vowel  before  r  the  sound  of  short  a,  prolonged,  but  this  pronun- 
ciation is  not  sanctioned  by  the  dictionaries. 

2  This  sound  is  an  intermediate  one  between  that  of  a  in  fat  and  a  in  far.  It 
Is  found  in  a  class  of  words,  mostly  monosyllables,  ending  in  aff,  aft,  ass,  ast, 
ask,  asp,  with  a  few  in  ance  and  ant.  Among  diflCeront  speakers  the  quality  of 
this  sound  ranges  through  every  practical  shade,  from  a  in  fat  to  a  in  far. 

3  There  is  a  class  of  words  ending  in  f  ft,  ss,  st,  and  th,  in  which  o  is  marked, 
in  most  pronouncing  dictionaries,  with  the  short  sound,  though  some  orthoe- 
pists give  it  the  sound  of  a  broad  in  fall  ,•  as,  off,  often,  offer,  coffee,  scoff,  aloft, 
soft,  cross,  loss,  toss,  cost,  frost,  lost,  broth,  cloth,  cough,  trough,  &c.  To  these 
may  be  added  gone  and  begone,  and  also  some  words  ending  in  ng  i  as,  long, 
along,  prong,  song,  strong,  thong,  wrong.  A  medium  between  short  a  and 
broad  a  is,  perhaps,  the  practice  of  the  best  speakers. 

VOWEL  SOUNDS  IN  UNACCENTED  SYLLABLES. 

Vowels  marked  with  a  dot  underneath,  thus  (a,  e,  j  o,  u,  y),  are  found  so 
marked  only  in  syllables  which  are  not  accented,  and  which  are  sliglitly  or 
hastily  articulated. 

This  mark  indicates  a  slight  stress  of  voice  in  uttering  the  appropriate  sound 
of  the  vowel,  rather  than  to  note  any  particular  quality  of  sound.  In  a  majority 
of  cases  this  mark  may  be  regarded  as  indicating  an  indistinct  short  s<mnd,  afl 
1* 


6  ARTICULATION. 

in  mental,  travel,  peril,  idol,  forum,  carry :— friar,  speaker,  nadir,  acton, 
sulphur. 

In  many  cases,  however,  it  indicates  a  slight  or  unaccented  long  sound  ;  as  in 
sulphate,  emerge,  obey,  duplicity,  educate. 

The  difference  between  the  lony,  and  obscure  longf  sound,  may  be  readily  dis- 
tinguished. In  the  word  fate,  the  a  is  long  ;  in  tlie  word  fatality,  the  first  a  is 
obscure  long.  The  case  is  similar  Avith  the  o  in  the  words  note  and  notorious. 
In  the  word  deliberate,  when  a  verb,  as,  "  I  will  deliberate,"  the  a  is  long ; 
when  an  adjective,  as,  "  A  deliberate  act,"  it  is  obscure  long. 

The  common  errors  in  the  pronunciation  of  words  of  tliis  class  are,  cither  a 
complete  suppression  of  the  vowel  sound,  or  the  substitution  of  a  sound  of 
some  other  vowel.  This  suppression  or  perversion  of  sound  is  mucli  increased 
by  the  hurried  manner  in  which  many  persons  are  aecustomed  to  speak  or  read. 
Thus  we  hear  rebH  for  rebel ;  paslmnt  for  patient ;  p^rcede  for  precede ;  er'ry  for 
every  ;  cuncern  for  concern  ;  momunt  for  moment ;  edecate  for  educate  j  advii- 
cate  for  advocate  ;  tcindur  for  windoM> ;  popular  or  popelar  for  popular  ;  awfle 
for  awful,  &c.  So  general  is  this  fault,  that  the  ear  becomes  accustomed  to  the 
improper  sounds  from  infancy ;  hence  arises  the  difficulty  in  remedying  the 
defect,  for  the  habit  of  indistinct  utterance  becomes  firmly  cstablislied. 

In  pronouncing  words  containing  unaccented  syllables,  care  should  be  taken 
to  avoid  a  formal  and  fastidious  prominence  of  sound.  The  two  extremes  which 
ought  to  be  equally  avoided,  are,  carelessness  on  the  one  hand,  and  extreme  pre- 
cision on  tlie  other,  as  if  the  sounds  of  the  letters  were  constantly  uppermost 
in  the  mind. 

n,   obscure,   as   in  mental.  —  Musical  i,   comical,   critical, 
numerical,  fatal,  principal,  original,  criminal. 

Special,  beneficial,  artificial,  commercial,  initial,  cre- 
dential, reverential,  essential,  impartial. 

Ascendant  2,  defendant,  defiance,  reliance,  variance, 
countenance,  performance. 

Peaceable  3,  agreeable,  sociable,  amiable,  detestable, 
abominable,  respectable,  tolerable,  valuable. 
%  obscure  long,  as  in  stdphate.  —  Abandon  ^,  ability, 
abolish,  afloat,  again,  alarm,  amaze,  canal,  caress,  catarrh, 
cathedral,  separate,  carbonate,  apostasy. 
e,  obscure,  as  in  travel. — Chapel s,  gravel,  counsel,  moment  6, 
confidence,  dependent,  silence,  seftlement. 

Goodness'',   boundless,   sameness,   plainness,    laziness, 
bashfulness,  bitterness,  manliness,  steadiness. 
e,  obscure  long,  as  in  emerge.  —  Belief  8,  believe,  benevolent, 

delight,  deliver,  denounce,  prepare,  precede. 
i,  obscure,  as  in  ruin.  —  Invincible  9,  forcible,  audible,  11 
legible,  feasible,  sentmel,  posszbly. 


ARTICULATION.  7 

0,  obscure,  as  In  idol.  —  Collect  ^^  commence,  commission, 
compose,  comply,  concern,  convert,  convulse. 

0,  obscure  long,  as  in  obey.  —  Domainal,  colossal,  corrobo- 
rate ^%  history,  memory,  composition  i^,  advocate. 

Potato  ^'^j   tobacco,   motto,   fellotw,  windoir,  meado2o. 

U,  obscure,  as  in  sulphur.  —  AwM^^^  fearM,  playfwl,  duti- 
iu\  gracef^^l,  fearfully,  beautifully. 

11,  obscure  long,  as  in  educate.  —  Articidate '^,  accwrate^, 
masctdine,  regi/lar,  particz^lar,  emulate. 

Pleasure,  exposure,  nature,  pressure,  impost^n-e. 

y,  obscure,  as  in  truly,  —  Lady,  safety,  envy,  marrying. 

1  Not  musicH.  "  Not  mrinQuhle. 

a  Not  ascendunt.  .  lo  Not  cullect. 

>  'NotpeafJible,  or  peaf'ble,  *i  Not  rfumatre. 

*  Not  abandon,  or  abandon.  12  Kot  corrdb^rate. 

6  Not  chapH.  ^3  Not  compersition, 

«  Not  rnomunt.  **  Not  potatur. 

1  Not  goodnis,  is  Not  aicfle. 

8  Not  bUief.  16  Not  artic'late. 

EXERCISES  ON  THE  CONSONANT  SOUNDS. 

b,  as  in  babe. — ^at,  5ear,  bought,  Jeast,  sta^,  ebb,  tu5e, 
bubble^  babbler,  Jound,  bind,  Mnder,  Jegin,  beggar. 

ch,  as  in  church.  —  C%air,  cAat,  charm,  check,  churn,  chirp. 

d,  as  in  did.  —  Deed,  debt,  mad,  moc^est,  woulc^,  sliouk/', 
c^ec^uce,  added,  wedded,  dated,  side,  sided,  deduced. 

f,  as  in  ffe.  —  J^ame,  fend,  fanciful,  prober,  craftj, 
enough,  rough,  cough,  laugh,  laughter,  pAysic,  ^jAantom. 

g,  as  in  gag.  —  Game,  gag,  playue,  vayue,  ghost,  yuard, 
yone,  juy,  egg,  yuilt,  gewgaw,  yuinea,  yive. 

ll,  as  in  hold.  —  ^ate,  high,  huge,  hot-house,  who,  bcAest, 

/iap-Aazard,  upholder,  offAand,  childAood,  nutAook,  with- 

Aold,  ink-Aorn,  race-Aorse,  unAappy. 
j  as  in  jog.  —  «7ar,Jilt,  yenius,  yentle,  yiant,  yibbet,  yypsy, 

edge,  ledge,  judge.  Judgment,  June,  July. 
k,  as  in  ki7'7c.  —  A'ite,  seeA;,  ial/c,  music,  coil,  vaccinate,  flac^ 

cid,  cAasm,  cAoir,  cAorus,  co^'uette,  eti<2'uette,  arcAitect. 


8  ARTICULATION. 

1,  as  m  lull  — Be^/,  /urk,  isfe,  pa?e,  ^ark,  loll^  /ive/y,  Zovefy, 

hai^,  ta//,  sweetly,  ho/y,  awfuZ/y. 
ni,  as  in  inaim.  —  iH/an,  morn,  wound,  mnmmon,  moment, 

blame,  hym?2,  dome,  memory,  memento. 
n,  as  in  nun.  —  JV'me,  li/ie^i,  way,  ^nat,  can,  keen,  noun, 

condign,  gnaw,  kneel,  hannev,  kitchen,  hyphe;i. 
llg;,  as  in  song.  —  l^mg,  Ringing,  ringing,  anger,  congress, 

dr'mk,  plank,  lynx,  tinker,  distinct,  monkey,  conquer. 
p,  as  in  pijye.  —  Peer,  ^in,  joool,  ha^^py,  pippin,  puppet, 

rapid,  tropic,  pupil,  jt^iper,  creep,  grope,  stop,  steep. 
r,  (trilled,)  initial,  or  before  a  vowel,  as  in  o'ap. —  i?end, 

rebel,  rot,  rest,  room,  rural,  around,  enrich. 
r,  (untrilled,)  final,  or  before  a  consonant,  as  in  nor. — Far, 

our,  murmur,  former,  servant,  border,  appear,  forbear. 
S,  as  in  seed.  —  /Sin,  sign,  suit,  dose,  .sinless,  science,  tran- 
scend, psalm,  scene,  scAism,  beside,  poesy,  heresy. 
Sll,  as  in  shine.  —  /Shine,  gash,  sash,  associate,  mansion, 

enunciation,  ocean,  station,  promotion,  cAevalier. 
t  as  in  tent.  —  Time,  tune,  T'hames,  receipt,  indict,  titter. 
tb,   as   in   thin. —  ^Aank,  ^Aeory,   theatre,  hath,  month, 

brea^A,  e^Aer,  ^Aankful,  linking,  aifAeist,  thorn. 
til,    as    in    thine. —  J'Aus,    ^Aere,    ^Aose,    benea^A,   ti^Ae, 

bre^Aren,  far^Aing,  brea^Ae,  bli^Ae,  hea^Aen,  ^Aerefore. 
V,  as  in  valve.  —  "Fine,  vit^id,  votive,  revive,  twelve,  revolvco 
W,  as  in  tcine.  —  TFall,  ?conder,  one,  once,  woo,  weai,  toorth. 
Wll,  as  in  whit. —  TFAale,  where,  when,  what,  why,  tcAether, 

ichite,  toA-iten,  toAipping,  iv/iisper,  whist. 
T,  like  ks,  as  in  tax.  —  'Box,  tecct,  seccton,  eaj'ile,  ecchume. 
X",  like  gz,  as  in  exalt.  —  Ea;act,  eccempt,  eccert,  eaile'. 
y,  as  in  ges.  —  Young,  yawn,  use,  wtility,  yonder,  million, 

poniard,  rebellion,  spaniel,  filial,  z^seful. 
Z,  as  in  zeal.  —  As,  was,  zephyr,  maze,  -prize,  flies,  daisies, 

praises,  arise,  breesies,  ccanthine,  A'erxes. 
Z,  like  zh,  as  in  azure.  —  Glasier,  seizure,  leisure,  collision, 

occasion,  osier,  vision,  explosion,  roseate. 


INTRODUCTORY   TREATISE 


ELOCUTION; 


PRINCIPLES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS,  ARRANGED  FOB  TEACHING 
AND  PRACTICE. 


PROF.  MARK  BAILEY, 


INSTRUCTOR     OF     ELOCUTION     i: 


YALE  COLLEGE. 


Kntarod  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1863,  by  Mark  BAU.ET,  U  tb* 
Clerk's  Omce  of  the  District  Court  of  Couoccticut. 


PREFACE 


Good  Heading  includes  that  mastery  of  the  elements  of 
language  and  elocution,  which  teachers  and  scholars  so  rarely 
attain.  Articulation  and  pronunciation  must  be  not  only  dis- 
tinct and  accurate,  hut  expressive.  This  last  excellence  can- 
not he  attained  by  merely  enunciating  meaningless  sounds 
and  syllables.  Too  many  such  mechanical  exercises  kill  the 
instinctive  use  and  recognition  of  expressive  tones  which  the 
child  brings  to  school,  and  in  the  end  completely  divorce  his 
elocution  from  the  spirit  and  sense  to  which  it  should  be 
inseparably  wedded,  and  which  alone  can  inspire  natuiaJ- 
expression.  The  child  feels  and  thinks  before  he  talks.  Na- 
ture, in  her  teaching,  begins  with  the  idea,  and  in  her  repeated 
efforts  to  express  the  idea  more  perfectly,  perfects  the  elemen- 
tary parts  of  language  and  elocution.  Let  us  enlist  Nature  into 
our  service  by  following  her  teachings.  Let  even  the  earliest 
lesson  in  reading  be  enlivened  by  the  aid  of  some  idea  famil- 
iar and  interesting  to  the  child.  He  knows  the  thing,  the 
idea,  **man,"  or  '*  sun,"  he  has  spoken  the  word  a  thousand 
times,  and  he  is  pleased  to  learn  that  the  mysterious  art  of 
reading  is  only  conscious  talking,  —  that  he  is  but  analyzing, 
and  sounding,  and  naming  the  unknown  parts  of  a  familiar 
whole.     But  especially  with  the  advanced  classes,  (which  are 


12  PREFACE. 

expected  to  use  the  following  work  on  elocution,)  would  the 
author  commend  this  practical  method  of  improving  the  parts, 
with  the  immediate  purpose  of  giving  better  expression  to  the 
whole,  —  of  practising  and  perfecting  the  execution  of  the 
dead  elements  of  elocution,  in  the  life-giving  light  of  inspiring 
ideas. 

"  There  is  in  soxils  a  sympathy  with  sounds." 

This  analogy  in  Nature  between  tones  and  sentiments  is  the 
central  source  from  which  the  author  has  drawn  the  simple 
principles  and  hints  which  are  given  to  aid  teachers  in  their 
laudable  efforts  to  cultivate  in  the  school-room,  and  thus 
everywhere,  a  more  natural  and  expressive  elocution. 

The  art,  embracing  the  expression  of  the  whole  range  of 
human  thoughts  and  feelings,  from  the  earliest  lispings  of  the 
child  to  the  most  impassioned  and  finished  utterance  of  a  Gar- 
rick  or  Siddons,  covers  too  wide  a  field,  and  reaches  too  high  a 
point  in  human  culture,  it  is  evident,  to  be  all  compressed 
into  these  few  introductory  pages  ;  nor  would  the  highest  re- 
finements of  the  art  be  practicable  in  the  school-room  if  they 
could  be  here  given.  Yet,  such  initial  steps  have  been  taken, 
and  clearly  marked  out  in  the  right  direction  toward  the  high- 
est art,  it  is  hoped,  as  will  tempt  many  to  go  on  further  in 
this  interesting  study  of  nature  and  art,  till  they  see  for  them- 
Belves  to  what  "rich  ends"  our  "most  poor  matters  point." 


PART    I. 


ELOCUTION  is  the  vocal  expression  of  ideas  with  the 
peaking  tones,  as  distinguished  from  the  singing. 

Good  Elocution,  in  reading  or  speaking,  is  the  expression 
of  ideas  with  their  appropriate  or  natural  speaking  tones  of 
the  voice. 

But  how  can  we,  intelligently,  even  attempt  to  give  correct 
vocal  expression  to  what  is  not  first  clearly  understood  and 

APPRECIATED  ? 

Hence  arises  at  the  very  outset,  as  a  prerequisite  to  any 
possible  excellence  in  elocution,  the  necessity  of  a  thorough 
ANALYSIS  and  study  of  the  ideas  or  the  thoughts  and  feelings 
to  be  read. 

Let,  then,  each  lesson  in  reading  begin  with  WiiB,  prepara- 
tory work  of  **  Logical  Analysis" 

method  oe  analysis. 

In  any  other  art,  if  we  wish  to  conceive  and  express  things 
clearly,  we  inquire,  first,  for  the  genus,  or  the  general  kind  ; 
secondly,  for  the  species,  or  the  individuals,  under  that  kind. 

If,  for  example,  we  were  asked  to  paint  a  group  of  animals 
or  flowers,  — 

1.  We  should  ascertain  what  land  of  animals  or  flowers  is 
meant,  —  the  horse,  or  the  lion  ;  the  rose,  or  the  lily. 

2.  AVc  should  determine  the  peculiarities  of  the  individuals. 

3.  We  should  feel  obliged  to  learn  something  of  the  general 
colors  we  arc  to  paint  with,  their  various  shades,  and  how  to 
blend  these  into  expressive  lights  and  shades.  Then  only  should 
we  feel  prepared  to  take  i\iQ  first  step  successfully  in  the  art  o£ 
painting. 


14  INTRODUCTORY    TREATISE. 

Let  us,  in  the  kindred  art  of  elocution,  adopt  tlie  same  natural 
method  and  order  of  inquiry. 
Let  us  determine,  — 

1.  The  general  spirit  or  kind  of  the  piece  to  he  read. 

2.  The  important  individual  ideas. 

3.  The  relative  importance  of  the  ideas. 

1.  We  must  determine  the  kind  or  general  spirit,  that 
We  may  know  what  general  or  standard  force,  and  timcy  &c. , 
of  voice  we  should  read  with.  There  must  be  some  stand- 
ard to  guide  us,  or  we  cannot  tell  how  much  emphasis  to  give 
to  any  idea.  "  Bead  the  emphatic  words  louder,"  says  the 
teacher.  Louder  than  what  ?  "  Louder  than  the  unemphatic 
■words."  But /ioi^  Zozfiif  are  <Aey,  the  unemphatic  words  ?  This 
question  must  be  answered  first,  or  we  have  no  standard  to 
go  by  ;  and  the  answer  to  this  question  is  determined  always 
by  the  general  spirit  of  the  piece.  If  that  is  unemotional, 
the  standard  force  required  is  moderate  ;  if  bold,  the  stand- 
ard force  is  hold,  or  loud;  if  subdued  or  pathetic,  the  stand- 
ard force  is  subdued,  or  soft, 

2.  AVe  must  determine  the  important  individual  ideas,  that 
■wc  may  know  wTiat  words  need  extra  force  or  emphasis. 

3.  AVe  must  determine  the  relative  importance  of  these 
ideas,  that  we  may  know  how  much  emphatic  force  we  must 
give  to  each  respectively,  so  as  to  bring  out  in  our  reading, 
clearly,  the  exact  d^nd  full  meaning  of  the  author. 

But  it  may  be  objected  that  this  method  of  catching  the  spirit 
of  the  author,  first,  is  too  difficult  for  the  school-room,  because 
there  are  so  many  emotions  not  easily  distinguished  or  remem- 
bered. Yet,  since  this  natural  order  of  inquiry,  if  it  can  be 
vj.iide  practicable,  will  make  all  our  after  progress  so  much  more 
intelligent  and  rapid,  and  since  the  chief  charm  of  ail  the  best 
pieces  for  expressive  reading,  lies  in  the  emotional  part, 
let  us  see  if  we  cannot  sufficiently  simplify  these  difficulties, 
by  grouping  nearly  all  the  emotions  into  a  few  representative 


INTRODUCTORY    TREATISE.  15 

classes,  ■which  will  be  definite  enough  for  all  ordinary  purposes 
in  teaching  elocution,  and  which  can  be  easili/  recognized 
bj  any  one  who  can  distinguish  joy  from  sorrow,  or  a  mere 
matter-of-fact  idea  from  impassioned  sentiment 

As  appropriate  answers  to  our  first  question  in  analysis,  let 
pupils  become  familiar  with  some  such  simple  and  comprehen- 
sive classes  as  the  following :  — 

DIFFERENT   KINDS    OR   CLASSES    OF    EMOTIONS. 

1.  *  Unemotional,^  or  matter-of-fact,  (whether  didactic, 
narrative,  or  descriptive). 

2.  'Bold,'  (including  the  very  emphatic  passages  in  tho 
first  class,  and  all  declamatory  pieces) . 

3.  '  Animated  or  joyous,'  (including  all  lively,  happy,  or 
beautiful  ideas). 

4.  *  Subdued  or  pathetic,'  (including  all  gentle,  tender, 
or  sad  ideas). 

5.  *  Nolle,'  (including  all  ideas  that  are  great,  grand, 
sublime,  or  heroic). 

G.  *  Grave'  (including  the  deep  feelings  of  solemnity, 
reverence,  &c.). 

7.  'Ludicrous  or  sarcastic,'  (including  jest,  raillery, 
ridicule,  mockery,  irony,  scorn,  or  contempt). 

8.  'Impassioned,'  (including  all  very  hold  pieces  and 
such  violent  passions  as  anger,  defiance,  revenge,  &c.). 

When  selections  are  of  a  mixed  character,  —  some  passages 
*  matter-of-fact,'  some  '  bold,'  some  '  noble,'  &c.,  —  the  first 
question  must  be  asked  as  often  as  there  is  a  marked 
change. 

Having  clearly  analyzed  any  given  example,  we  are  ready 
intelligently  to  ask  and  answer  the  first  elocutionary  question, 
viz..  How  can  we  read  the  same  so  as  to  express  with  the 
Toice  the  *  general  spirit '  and  the  '  individual  ideas '  with 
the  '  relative  importance '  of  each  ?  This  brings  us  to  tho 
subject  of, — 


16  INTKODUCTOKY    TREATISE. 

VOCAL     EXPRESSION. 

Before  analyzing  the  elements  of  vocal  expression,  let  pupils 
be  made  to  understand,  as  clearly  as  possible,  this  broad,  gen- 
eral principle,  viz.,  that  expression  ui  Nature  ox  Ai't  depends 
on  some  kinds  of  lights  and  shades,  as  of  color,  or  form,  or 
sound. 

Let  them  see  that  the  clean  white  wall  or  the  blackboard,  has 
no  expression,  just  because  it  has  but  one  shade  of  one  color, 
while  the  painted  map  on  the  vfsiW  expresses  something,  because 
it  has  different  shades  of  various  colors. 

They  will  then  the  more  clearly  understand  that  the  true 
expression  of  thoughts  and  feelings  in  reading  depends  on 
using  the  right  lights  and  shades  of  the  voice.  That  a  monot- 
onous tone  gives  no  more  expression  to  the  ear  than  the  one 
monotonous  color  does  to  the  eye. 

All  our  lights  and  shades  of  expression  in  elocution  are  to 
be  made  out  of  the  following  :  — 

ELEMENTS    OF    VOCAL    EXPRESSION. 

1.  *  Force'  with  all  its  natural  variety,  from  moderate 
to  louder  or  softer. 

2.  '  Time,'  with  its  changes  from  moderate  to  faster  or  slow- 
er movement,  also  with  its  longer  or  shorter  quantity  nudpauses. 

3.  'Slides,'  'rising'  and  'fulling,'  and  ' circunifiex,'  and 
all  these  as  moderate,  or  longer  or  shorter. 

4.  'Pitch,'  with  its  variety  of  'keg-note,'  'compass,'  and 
*  melody.' 

5.  '  Volume'  with  more  or  less  'fulness '  of  tone. 

G.  '  Stress,'  or  the  different  kinds  of  force,  as  '  abrvpt'  or 
'smooth'  or  as  given  to  different />ar^5  of  a  syllable. 

7.  '  Quality,'  as  'pure'  and  resonant,  or  'impure'  and 
aspirated. 

Let  us  now  study  and  practice  the  principles  for  the  right 
use  of  each  one  of  these  elements  of  vocal  expression,  in  Part  IL 


PAUT   II. 


PRINCIPLES    AND    ILLUSTEATIONS    OF    THE   ELE^ 
MENTS   or   VOCAL   EXPEESSIOK 


FORCE 


As  in  our  analysis  of  the  spirit  and  sense  of  eacli  passage, 
we  have  always  two  quite  different  questions  to  ask,  viz., 
AVhat  is  the  general  spirit,  and  what  the  relative  importance 
of  the  indioidual  ideas  f  so  in  our  analysis  of  each  one  of  the 
elements  of  vocal  expression,  we  have  the  same  general  and 
individual  inquiries  to  make  : 

1.  What  general  degree    of  force  will  best   express  the 

•  general  spirit '  of  the  piece  ? 

2.  Taking  this  general  force  as  our  *  standard '  degree  of 
loudness  or  softness  to  be  given  to  the  unemphatic  words,  how 
much  additional  force  must  we  give  to  the  emphatic  words, 
in  order  to  bripg  out,  in  our  reading,  the  relative  importance 
of  the  different  ideas  ? 

PRINCIPLE    ¥0R    STANDARD    FORCE. 

Determine  the  '  standard  force '  for  the  unemphatic 
words  by  the  '  kind '  or  *  general  spirit '  of  the  piece. 
If  the  kind  is  '  unemotional,'  the  standard  force  is 

*  moderate.^ 

If  the  kind  is  '  bold,'  the  standard  force  is  '  loud.^ 

If  the  kind  is  *  pathetic  or  subdued,'  the  standard 

force  is  '  soft,* 

2* 


18  IXTROLJUCTOKY    TKEATISE. 


PRINCIPLE    FOR    RELATIVE    OR    EMPHATIC    FORCE. 

Taking  the  '  standard  force '  for  the  2inemj)hatic 
words,  give  additional  force  to  the  emphatic  ideas, 
according  to  their  relative  importance, 

"  Learning  is  better  than  wealth  ; 
Culture  is  better  than  learning  ; 
"Wisdom  is  better  than  culture." 

ANALYSIS. 

The  'general  spirit'  or  'kind'  is  ^  unemotionaV  The 
^  standard  force'  is,  therefore,  *  moderate.'  The  words  "better" 
and  "wealth  "  in  the  first  line  must  have  just  enough  addi- 
iional  force  to  distinguish  them  from  the  unemphatic  words 
"is"  and  "than."  "Learning"  is  more  important  than 
"  wealth,"  and  must  have  enough  more  force  than  "  wealth  " 
to  express  its  relative  importance,  "  Culture  "  is  more  impor- 
tant than  "learning,"  and  must  therefore  be  read  with  more 
force.  "  Wisdom  "  is  still  more  important  than  "  culture,"  and 
must  be  read  with  still  more  force,  to  distinguish  it  as  the 
inost  important  of  all. 

Hence,  to  read  this  simple  paragraph  naturally,  that  is, 
to  express  distinctly  the  general  spirit  and  the  relative 
importance  of  the  different  ideas,  we  need  fve  distinct  de- 
grees  of  force. 

Let  us  mark  the  least  degree  of  emphatic  force  by  italics, 
the  second  by  small  capitals,  the  third  by  large  capitals,  the 
fourth  by  larger  capitals,  and  express  the  same  in  reading. 

"  Learning  is  letter  than  wealth  ; 
QULTUKE  is  better  than  learning; 
\\^ISr>OM  is  better  than  CULTURE." 

*  Unemationcd'  examples  for  '  moderate  '  standard  force. 

1.  "  I  am  charged  with  ambition.  The  charge  is  true, 
and  I  GLORY  in  its  truth.  AVho  ever  achieved  anything  great 
in  letters,  arts,  or  arms,  who  was  not  ambitious  ?     Ccesar  was 


IXTPtODUCTOKY    TREATISE.  19 

not  more  ambitiotis  tlian  Cicero.  It  was  but  in  another  way. 
All  greatness  is  born  of  amhition.  Let  the  ambition  be  a 
NOBLE  one,  and  who  shall  hlame  it  ?  " 

2.  '*  The  plumoffc  of  the  mocJdng-hird,  though  none  of  the 
homeliest,  has  nothing  gaudy  or  brilliant  in  it ;  and  had  he 
nothing  else  to  recommend  him,  would  scarcely  entitle  him  to 
notice;  hut  his  Jiyure  is  well-proportioned,  and  even  handsome. 
The  ease,  elegance,  and  rapidity  of  his  movements,  the  anima- 
tion of  his  eye,  and  the  intelligence  he  displays  in  listening, 
and  laying  up  lessons  from  almost  every  species  of  the  feath- 
ered creation  within  his  hearing,  are  really  surprising,  and 
mark  the  peculiarity  of  his  genius." 

3.  "  ThxeG  poets,  in  three  distant  ages  born, 

Greece,  Italy,  and  England  did  adorn  :  * 
The  first  in  majesty  of  thought  surpassed  ; 
The  next  in  gracefulness ;  in  BOTH,  the  last" 

[Unmarked  Examples.*] 

4.  "  Not  enjoyment,  and  not  sorrow, 

Is  our  destined  end  or  way ; 
But  to  act,  that  each  to-morrow 
Lind  us  further  than  to-day. 

"  Let  us,  then,  be  up  and  doing, 
With  a  heart  for  any  fate  ; 
Still  achieving,  still  pursuing. 
Learn  to  labor  and  to  wait." 

5.  "  In  every  period  of  life,  the  acquisition  of  knowledge 
is  one  of  the  most  pleasing  employments  of  the  human  mind. 
But  in  youth,  there  are  circumstances  which  make  it  produc- 

*  Some  examples  under  Force,  Time,  and  Slides  are  given  without  elo- 
cutionary marks,  lliat  teachers  and  pupils  may  exercise  their  own  judgment 
*ud  taste  in  analyzing  and  reading  them  according  to  the  principles. 


20  INTEODUCTORY    TREATISE. 

>« 
tive  of  higher  enjoyment.     It  is  then,  that  everything  has  the 
charm  of  novelty;   that  curiosity  and  fancy  arc  awake,  and 
that  the  heart  swells  with  the  anticipations  of  future  eminence 
and  utility." 

'  Bold  '  examples  for  '  loud '  standard  force, 

1.  "  Sir,  we  have  done  everything  that  coidd  be  done,  to 
Uvert  the  storm  which  is  now  coming  on.  We  have  'petitioned  ; 
we  have  remonstrated  ;  we  have  supplicated  ;  we  have  pros- 
trated ourselves  before  the  throne,  and  have  implored  its  inter- 
position to  ARREST  the  tyrannical  hands  of  the  ministry  and 
parlianumt.  Our  petitions  have  been  slighted ;  our  remon- 
strances have  produced  additional  violence  and  insidt ;  our 
supplications  have  been  disregarded;  and  we  have  been 
SPURNE:^with  contempt,  from  the  foot  of  the  throne  ! " 

2.  "  My  friends,  our  country  must  be  free  !     The  land 

Is  never  lost,  that  has  a  son  to  right  her, 

And  here  are  troops  of  sons,  and  loyal  ones ! 

Strong  in  her  children  should  a  mother  be : 

Shall  ours  be  helpless,  that  has  sons  like  us  ? 

God  SAVE  our  native  land,  whoever  pays 

The  ransom  that  redeems  her !     Now  what  wait  we  ? 

For  Alfred's  word  to  move  upon  theybe  ? 

Upon  him  then  !     JVow  think  ye  on  the  things 

You  most  do  love  I     Husbands  2.\A  fathers,  on 

Their  avives  and  cuildren  ;  lovers  on  their  beloved  ; 

And  all  upon  their  COUNTRY  !  " 

3.  "  The  gentleman,  sir,  has  misconceived  the  spirit  and 
tendency  of  Northern  institutions.  He  is  ignorant  of  North- 
ern character.  He  has  forgotten  the  history  of  his  country. 
Preach  insurrection  to  the  Northern  laborers  ?  Who  are  the 
Northern  laborers  ?  Tlie  history  of  your  country  is  their 
history.  The  renown  of  your  country  is  their  renown.  The 
brightness  of  their  doings  is  emblazoned  on  its  every  page. 


INTRODUCTORY    TRExVTISE.  21 

Where  is  Concord,  and  Lexington,  and  Princeton,  and  Tren- 
ton, and  Saratoga,  and  Bunker  Hill,  but  in  the  North  ?  And 
what,  sir,  has  shed  an  imperishable  renown  on  the  names  of 
those  hallowed  spots,  but  the  blood,  and  the  struggles,  the 
high  daring,  and  patriotism,  and  sublime  courage  of  Northern 
laborers  ?  The  whole  North  is  an  everlasting  monument  of 
the  freedom,  virtue,  intelligence,  and  indomitable  indepen- 
dence of  Northern  laborers  ?  Go,  sir,  go  preach  insurrection 
to  men  like  these  !  " 

4.  ''  Our  Fatherland  is  in  danger  !  Citizens  !  to  arms  !  to 
arms  !  Unless  the  whole  Nation  rise  up,  as  one  man,  to  de- 
fend itself,  all  the  noble  blood  already  shed  is  in  vain ;  and, 
on  the  ground  where  the  ashes  of  our  ancestors  repose,  the 
llussian  knout  will  rule  over  an  enslaved  People  !  AYe  have 
nothing  to  rest  our  hopes  upon,  but  a  righteous  God,  and  our 
own  strength.  And  if  we  do  not  put  forth  that  strength,  God 
will  also  forsake  us.  Hungary's  struggle  is  no  longer  our 
struggle  alone.  It  is  the  struggle  of  popular  freedom  against 
tyranny.  In  the  wake  of  our  victory,  will  follow  liberty  to 
the  Italians,  Germans,  Poles.  With  our  fall,  goes  down  the 
star  of  freedom  over  all." 

Examples  of  the  '  suhd^ied  or  pathetic  '  kind  for  '  soft ' 
standard  force. 

1.  "  Little  Nell  was  dead.  No  sleep  so  beautiful  and  calm, 
so  free  from  trace  of  pain,  so  fair  to  look  upon.  She  seemed 
a  creature  fresh  from  the  hand  of  God,  and  waiting  for  the 
breath  of  life ;  not  one  who  had  lined  and  svfj'ered  death. 
Ilcr  couch  was  dressed  with  here  and  there  some  winter-ber- 
ries and  Qreen  leaves,  gathered  in  a  spot  she  had  been  used  to 
favor.  '  When  I  die,  put  near  me  something  that  has  loved 
the  LIGHT,  and  had  the  sky  above  it  always.'  Those  were 
her  words." 

2.  "  But  Bozzaris  fell, 
Bleeding  at  every  vein. 


22  INTRODUCTORY    TREATISE. 

**  His  few  surviving  comrades  saw 
His  smile,  when  rant^f  their  proud,  hubeah, 

And  the  red  field  was  won  : 
Then  saw  in  death  his  eyelids  close 
Calmly,  as  to  a  nigliCs  repose, 

Jj'ike  Jlowers  at  set  of  sun.'^ 

3,  *'  I  have  known  deeper  wrongs.     I,  that  speak  to  yc, 

I  had  a  brother  once,  a  gracious  boy, 
Full  of  all  gentleness,  of  calmest  hope,  — 
Of  sweet  and  quiet  joy,  — there  was  the  look 
Of  Heaven  upon  his  face,  which  limners  give 
To  the  beloved  disciple.     How  I  loved 
That  gracious  boy  !     Younger  by  fifteen  years, 
Brother  at  once,  and  son  !     He  left  my  side, 
A  summer  bloom  on  his  fair  cheeks,  —  a  smile 
Parting  his  innocent  lips.     In  one  short  hour, 
The  pretty,  harmless  boy  was  slain  !  " 

4.  "  There  is  a  calm  for  those  who  weep, 

A  rest  for  weary  pilgrims  found ; 
They  softly  lie  and  sweetly  sleep, 
Low  in  the  ground. 

"  The  storm  that  sweeps  the  wintry  sky. 
No  more  disturbs  their  deep  repose, 
Than  summer  evening's  latest  sigh, 
That  shuts  the  rose." 

'  Soft  force '  is  also  appropriate  for  the  '  grave '  kind  of  sen- 
timents, and  'loud  force'  for  the  'joyous'  and  'noble,' and 
*  very  loud  force '  for  the  '  impassioned  ; '  but  since  other  ele- 
ments of  the  voice,  such  as  '  iinie,'  'slides,'  '  qtudity,'  &c.,  have 
more  characteristic  prominence  than  '  force '  in  the  finished 
expression  of  these  classes,  we  shall  be  more  likely  to  secure 
naturalness  in  the  end,  if  we  call  attention  first  to  the  most 
characteristic  elements. 


-%    .:'j&, 


INTRODUCTORY    TREATISE.  23 

TIME. 

*  Time'  has  the  same  general  and  relative  use  as  *  Force.* 

PRINCIPLE    FOR    STANDARD    TIME. 

Determine  the  '  standard  time '  by  the  *  general  spirit' 
of  the  piece. 

If  the  general  spirit  is  *  unemotional,'  the  standard 
time  is  naturally  '  moderate.^ 

If  the  general  spirit  is  *  animated  or  joyous,'  the 
standard  time  is  '  fa^l.^ 

If  the  general  spirit  is  *  grave,'  '  subdued  or  pa- 
thetic,' or  *  noble,'  the  standard  time  is  *  shiw,^ 

PRINCIPLE    FOR    RELATIVE    OR    EMPHATIC    TIME. 

Taking  the  *  standard  time '  for  the  unempJiatic  words, 
give  additional  time  to  the  em])hatic  ideas,  according  to 
their  relative  importance. 

EXPLANATION. 

*  Emphatic  time^  has  two  forms.  1.  That  of  actual  sound, 
ox  *  qaantltyJ'     2.  That  of  rest,  or  *^«M5e.' 

When  an  emphatic  idea  is  found  in  a  word  whose  accented 
syllable  is  loufj,  give  most  of  the  emphatic  time  in  long  quan- 
tity, with  only  a  short  pause  after  the  word.  When  the  sylla- 
ble to  be  emphasized  is  short,  give  to  it  only  so  much  quantity 
as  good  taste  in  'pronunciation  will  allow,  and  the  residue  of 
the  required  time  in  a  pause  after  the  word  ;  thus  holding 
the  attention  of  the  mind  on  the  idea  for  the  fall  time  demanded 
by  the  principle. 

When  extraordinary  emphasis  of  time  is  required,  long 
pauses  must  be  added  to  long  quantity. 

Thus  far,  '  time '  harmonizes  with  '  force '  in  principle 
and  practice.  But  *  time '  is  of  additional  value  to  us.  It 
furnishes  one  of  the  primary  requisites  to  all  intelligibly 
reading,  viz : 


24  INTKODUCTOEY    TREATISE. 

APPROPRIATE     PAUSES. 

The  first  and  great  use  of  '  pauses '  is  to  separate  the  ideas 
from  each  other,  so  as  to  preserve  distinctly  to  the  eye  on  the 
"written  page,  and  to  the  ear  in  reading,  the  individaality  of 
each,  together  with  its  relation  to  those  before  and  after  it. 

Second,  pauses  are  necessary  to  give  the  reader  frequent 
opportunities  for  inhaling. 

The  grammatical  pauses  only  imperfectly  answer  these  pur- 
poses. But  the  additional  elocutionary  pauses  which  the  spirit 
and  sense  may  demand,  are  anticipated  by  our  "  Principle  for 
relative  or  emphatic  time,"  which  makesjaawses  a  natural ^ar< 
of  expressive  emphasis  in  reading. 

PRINCIPLE    FOR    STANDARD    PAUSES. 

Determine  the  *  standard  pause'  by  the  *  general  spir- 
it '  of  the  piece. 

If  the  general  spirit  is  *  unemotional/  the  standard 
pause  is  *  moderate.^ 

If  the  general  spirit  is  *  animated  or  joyous/  the 
standard  pause  is  *  short.' 

If  the  general  spirit  is  *  grave,'  or  *  subdued  or  pa- 
thetic,' the  standard  pause  is  '  long.' 

PRINCIPLE    FOR    RELATIVE   PAUSES. 

Give  the  *  standard  pause '  after  each  distinct,  un- 
emphatic  idea,  and  give  additional  time  to  the  pauses 
after  the  emphatic  and  independent  ideas,  according  to 
their  relative  importance    and  independence. 

EXPLANATION. 

As  the  '  standard  time '  for  the  movement  and  pauses  is 
usually  the  same,  let  one  perpendicular  line  |  he  the  mark 
for  both.  Let  any  additional  number  of  lines  indicate  addi- 
tional time,  or  emphatic  '  quantity  '  or  ^ pauses.^  Let  the 
half  line  '  indicate  a  time  less  than  the  standard.  This 
time  is  needed  in  reading  properly  all  parenthetical  clauses. 


IXTKODUCTOKY    TREATISE.  25 

which  are,  from  their  very  nature,  less  important  even  than 
the  unemjihatic  parts  of  the  principal  sentences. 

*  Unemotional '  examples  for  *  moderate  '  standard  time. 

1.  "  The  young  man,  |  it  is  often  said, '  has  genius  \\  enough,  | 
if  he  would  only  study,  \\  Now  the  truth  is,  [  as  I  shall  take 
the  liberty  to  state  it,  '  that  the  genius  ||  avill  |||  study  ;  \\  it 
is  that  I  in  the  mind  |  which  does  \\  study:  |  that  is  the  very 
nature  1 1  of  it.  |  I  care  not  to  say  |  that  it  will  always  use 
loohs.  II  All  study  ||  is  not  reading,  \\  any  more  than  all 
reading  ||  is  study.  ||  Attention  [j|  it  is,  —  |  though  other 
qualities  belong  to  this  transcendent  power, — '  ATTENTIONIH  | 
it  is,  I  that  is  the  very  soul  |||  oi genius  ;  ||  not  the  fixed  eye,  || 
not  the  poring  over  a  hook,  ||  but  the  fixed  TnouGiiT."  ||| 

ANALYSIS. 

The  piece  is  'unemotional'  and  should  be  read,  therefore, 
with  '  moderate'  *  standard  time  '  for  '  movement'  and  'pauses.' 

'*  The  young  man  "  is  unemphatic,  and  should  be  marked 
and  read  with  the  '  standard  time.'  The  clause,  "  it  is  often 
said,"  is  really  parenthetical :  it  forms  no  essential  part  of 
the  sense  or  construction  of  the  principal  sentence.  It  is  for 
that  reason  of  less  importance  than  the  unemphatic  words  of 
the  principal  sentence.  It  should  therefore  be  read  with  less 
than  'moderate'  or  'standard  time.'  The  idea  in  "genius" 
is  emphatic,  and  should  be  read  with  enough  more  time  (as 
well  as  force)  than  "  young  man"  to  express  its  greater  rela- 
tive importance.  The  accented  syllable  is  Zo^z^  in  "genius." 
The  emphatic  time  may  be  given,  therefore,  mostly  in  gican- 
tity,  with  a  short  pause  after  the  word.  "Enough"  needs 
only  the  moderate  pause  after  it,  to  separate  it  from  the  con- 
ditional idea,  "  if  he  would  only  study."  "  Study"  is  as  em- 
phatic as  "  genius,"  but  the  accented  syllable  is  short ;  hence, 
the  emphatic  time  on  this  word  must  be  given  in  short  quan- 
tity, and  a  longer  pause  after  it  to  fill  out  the  time.  "  Now 
the  truth  is,"  requires  'moderate'  time,  as  it  is  unemphatic. 
"As  I  shall  take  the  liberty  to  state  it,"  requires /c?55  tnan 
moderate  time  and  force,  as  it  is  of  less  importance,  being 
parenthetical.  "  That  the  genius  "  is  emphatic,  and  demands 
more  than  moderate  time.  "  AVill"  is  still  more  important, 
3 


2'w  IXTRODUCTOllY    TREATISE. 

and  demands  three  lines  to  mark  its  relative  time  in  reading. 
"  Study"  is  emphatic  in  the  first  degree,  and  needs  only  two 
lines  to  mark  its  time.  —  Thus  analyze  all  the  following  ideas 
and  selections ;  and  mark,  in  reading  them,  the  relative  im- 
portance or  emphasis  of  each,  by  the  *  time  '  as  well  as  by 
the  '  force '  of  the  voice.  Further  on  in  the  piece  above,  we 
come  to  the  great  positive  idea,  "  attention,"  which  must  be 
doubly  emphasized  ;  and  as  it  is  repeated  for  emphasis,  it  then 
demands  ^owr  lines  to  mark  its  svperlative  importance. 

There  are  few  readers  or  speakers  who  make  as  good  use  of 
•  time  '  as  of  *  force.'  Yet  '  time '  gives  as  expressive  lights 
and  shades  as  '  force,'  and  should  be  varied  as  much,  according 
to  the  same  principle.  In  reading  '  grave,'  '  subdued  or  pa- 
thetic,' and  '  noble  '  sentiments,  time  is  far  more  liromiiient 
than/orce,  and  is  thus  a  nobler  element  of  emphasis.  Let  the 
example  be  read  many  times,  to  fix  in  the  reader's  mind  the 
'principle,  and  the  hahit  of  applying  it  correctly. 

2.  "  AYhat  polisb  is  to  the  diamond,  manner  is  to  the  indi- 
vidual. It  heightens  the  value  and  the  charm.  The  manner 
is,  in  some  sense,  the  mirror  of  the  mind.  It  pictures  and 
represents  the  thoughts  and  emotions  within.  We  cannot 
always  be  engaged  in  expressive  action.  But  even  when  we  are 
silent,  even  when  we  are  not  in  action,  there  is  something  in 
our  air  and  manner,  which  expresses  what  is  elevated,  or  what 
is  low ;  what  is  human  and  benignant,  or  what  is  coarse  and 
harsh. 

"  The  charm  of  manner  consists  in  its  simplicity,  its  grace, 
and  its  sincerity.     How  important  the  study  of  manner !  " 

This  example  demands  '  slower '  standard  time  than  the  one 
above,  because  the  *  general  spirit '  is  nobler.  The  emphatic 
quantity  andjtxzMse^  are  proportionately  longer. 

3.  "  Such  I  was  Grace  Darling,  1 1  —  one  of  the  heroines  |  j| 
of  humanity,  —  1 1  whose  name  I  is  destined  to  live  \  \  as  long  as 
the  sympathies  ||  and  affections -W  of  humanity  j||  endure,  jj 
Such  calm  |  heroism  | | |  as  hers,  \\  —  so  generously  \ \  exerted 
for  the  good  |  of  others,  —  1 1  is  one  of  the  noblest  |  j j  attributes 
of  tiae  soul  II  of  man.  |     It  had  no  alloy  of  blind  |  animal  \\ 


INTRODUCTORY    TREATISE.  27 

passion,  J  like  the  bravery  of  the  soldier  ||  on  the  field  of 
battle,  [I  but  it  was  spiritual,  ||  celestial,  jjj  and  we  may 
reverently  add,  |  GODLIKE."  |||| 

Examples  of  the  *  animated  or  joyous  '  Jdnd,  for  '■fast ' 
standard  time,   and  '  short '  standard  pauses. 

[•«  The  Voice  of  SinuNO,"] 

1    "  I  come  !  II  I  come!  |||  ye  have  called  me  |  long!  || 

I  come  I  o'er  the  mountains  ||  with  light  j  and  song!  || 
Ye  may  trace  |  ray  step  j  o'er  the  wakening  |  earth,  || 
By  the  winds  jj  which  tell  |  of  the  violet's  ||  birth,  j 
By  the  primrose  stars  ||  in  the  shadowy  grass,  || 
By  the  green  leaves  ||  opening  ||  as  I  pass.  || 

*'  From  the  streams  and  founts  I  have  loosed  the  chain, 

They  are  sweeping  on  to  the  silvery  main, 
-   They  are  flashing  down  from  the  mountain  brows, 

They  are  flinging  spray  o'er  the  forest- boughs, 

They  are  bursting  fresh  from  their  sparry  caves ; 

And  the  earth  resounds  with  the  joy  of  waves!  " 

2.  *'  Then  fancy  ||  her  magical  |  pinions  |  spread  wide,  || 
And  bade  the  young  dreamer  |  in  ecstasy  ||  rise;  || 
Now,  far,  |  far  behind  him  ||  the  green  waters  ||  glide,  [ 
And  the  cot  |  of  his  forefathers  1 1  blesses  1 1  his  eyes.  I 

'*  The  jessamine  1 1  clambers  |  in  flower  |  o'er  the  thatch,  | 
And  the  swallow  1 1  sings  sweet  1 1  from  her  nest  j  in  tb* 
wall ;  I 
All  trembling  |  with  transport,  ||  he  raises  the  latch,  | 
And  the  voices  |  of  loved  ones  ||  reply  to  his  call"  || 

3.  "Everyone  is  doubtful  what  course  to  take,  —  eveiy 
one  11  but  Coesar !  ||  He  ||  causes  the  banner  ||  to  be  erected,  !| 
tlie  charge  ||  to  be  sounded,  |  the  soldiers  at  a  distance  |  to  be 
recalled,  —  jl  all  in  a  moment.  |     He  runs  I  from  place  to 


28  IXTRODUCTOEY    TREATISE. 

place  ;  II  his  whole  frame  |||  is  in  action;  ||  his  words,  |[  hia 
looks,  II  his  motions,  ||  his  gestures,  ||  exhort  his  men  |  to 
remember  |  their  former  valor.  |j  He  draws  them  up,  |  and 
causes  the  signal  to  be  given,  —  |  all  in  a  moment.  |  He  seizes 
a  buckler  j  from  one  of  the  private  men, —  |  puts  himself  ||  at 
the  head  |  of  his  broken  troops,  —  1 1  darts  into  the  thick  1 1  of 
the  battle,  — 1|  rescues  [|  his  legions,  ||  and  overthrows  |||  the 
enemy ! "  j| 

*  Grave '  examples  for  '  slow '  standard  time. 

1.  "  But  where,  ||  thought  I,  |  is  the  crew?  ||  Their  strug- 
gle I  has  long  been  over;  — 1|  they  have  gone  down  |  amidst 
the  roar  of  the  tempest ;  —  |[  their  bones  lie  whitening  |  in  the 
caverns  of  the  deep.  ||  Silence — |||  oblivion — ||||  like  the 
waves,  [|  have  closed  over  them ;  ||  and  no  one  can  tell  ||  the 
story  of  their  end.  ||| 

"  AVhat  sighs  ||  have  been  wafted  after  that  ship!  ||  WJiat 
prayers  1 1  oflFered  up  |  at  the  deserted  fireside  of  home  !  1 1  How 
often  I  has  the  mistress,  ||  the  wife,  ||  and  the  mother  ||  pored 
over  the  daily  news,  ||  to  catch  some  casual  intelligence  |  of 
this  rover  of  the  deep !  1 1  How  has  expectation  1 1  darkened  | 
into  anxiety,  —  ||  anxiety  |  into  dread,  —  |||  and  dread  ||  into 
despair  !  || | [  Alas !  1 1  not  one  |  memento  |  shall  ever  return  | 
for  love  1 1  to  cherish.  1 1  All  that  shall  ever  be  known,  |  is,  | 
that  she  sailed  from  her  port,  ||  and  was  never  ||  heard  of  |) 
more."  nil 

'Grave'  example  for  very  ^*slow  time'  and  very  *long 
vaiisesJ 

2.  "  It  must  II  be  so.  ||  Plato,  ||  thou  reasonest  well !  || 
Else  I  whence  |  this  pleasing  hope,  ||  this  fond  desire,  |l 
This  longing  1 1 1  after  immortality  ?  1 1 1 1 

Or  whence  |  this  secret  dread  1 1 1  and  inward  horror  1 1 1 
Of  falling  into  naught  ?  1 1 1|     Why  |  shrinks  the  soul  | 
Back  I  on  herself,  ||  and  startles  ||  at  destruction?  I||| 


INTRODUCTORY   TREATISE.  29 

*T  is  the  Divinity  |||  that  stirs  |  within  us  :  || 

'Tis  Heaven  ||  itself  j||  that  points  out  an  hereafter,  [| 

And  intimates  |  Eternity  |||  to  man.  || 

Eternity  !  —  ||||  thou  pleasing, —  ||  dreadfulthought !  "  j||l 

''Pathetic*  example  for  '  slow'  sta7iclard  time. 

3.  "Alas  !   II  niy  noble  boy  !  |||  that  thou  |  shouldst  die  !  ||| 
Thou,  II  who  wert  made  |  so  beautifully  fair  !  ||j 
That  death  ||  should  settle  |  in  thy  glorious  eye,  |j| 
And  leave  his  ||  stillness  |||  in  thy  clustering  hair  !  ||| 
How  could  he  ||  mark  thee  ||j|  for  the  silent  tomb,  ||| 
My  proud   |    boy,  ||  Absalom  !"  |||| 

SLIDES. 

In  perfectly  natural  speech,  the  voice  rises  or  falls  on  each 
unemphatic  syllable  through  the  interval  of  one  tone  only,  but 
on  the  accented  syllable  of  an  emphatic  word  it  rises  or  falls 

MOI^    THAN    ONE    TONE. 

This  last  is  called  the  inflection  or  '  slide '  of  the  voice. 
The  'slides'  are  thus  a  pait  of  emphasis,  and  as  they  give 
the  right  direction  and  limit  to  '  force  '  and  '  time,'  they  are 
the  crowning  part  of  perfect  emphasis. 

When  contrasted  ideas,  of  equal  importance,  are  coupled, 
nothing  but  the  contrasted  slides  can  give  the  proper  dis- 
tinctive emphasis.  The  slides  also  furnish  to  elocution  its 
most  ample  and  varied  lights  and  shades  of  emotional  ex-, 
pression. 

These  slides  are  '  rising,'  marked  thus  (  '  )  ,*  or  '  falling,' 
marked  thus  (  ^  )  ;  or  both  of  these  blended,  in  the  '  rising* 
circumflex  Q,nd  the  'falling'  arc w/??/7ex,  marked  respectively 
thus  (  ^  )  and  thus  {^). 

The  '  rising '  and  '  falling '  slides  separate  the  great  mass 
of  ideas  into  tiuo  distinct  classes ;  the  first  comprising  all 
the  subordinate,  or  incomplete,  or  as  we  prefer  to  name  them, 
the  negative  ideas  ;  the  second  comprising  all  the  principal,  or 
complete,  or  as  we  shall  call  them,  the  positive  ideas. 

The  most  important  parts  of  what  is  spoken  or  written  are 
lliose  which  aihrm  something  posi^/ve/y,  such  as  iha  facts  and 
truths  asserted,  the  principles,  sentiments,  and  actions  enjoined, 
3* 


dO  INTllODUCTORY    TREATISE. 

with  the  illustrations,  and  reasons,  and  appeals  which  enforce 
them. 

All  these  may  properly  be  grouped  into  one  class,  because 
they  all  should  have  the  same  kind  of  slide  in  reading. 

This  class  we  call  '  positive  ideas.' 

So  all  the  other  ideas  which  do  not  affirm  or  enjoin  :niy- 
ihmg  positively ,  which  are  circumstantial  and  incomplete,  or  in 
open  contrast  with  the  positive,  all  these  ideas  may  be  prop- 
erly grouped  into  another  single  class,  because  they  all  should 
have  the  same  kind  of  slide. 

This  class  we  call  *  negative  ideas.' 

Grant  to  the  words  *  positive  '  and  '  negative '  the  compre- 
hensive meaning  here  given  to  them,  and  let  the  distinction 
between  the  two  classes  be  clearly  made  in  the  preparatory 
analysis,  and  it  will  be  vastly  easier  to  understand  and  teach 
this  most  complicated  and  difficult  part  of  elocution,  tlie  right 
use  of  the  rising  and  fdling  slides. 

For,  then,  the  one  simple  j^nViCi/j/e  which  follows  will  take 
the  place,  and  preclude  the  use  of,  all  the  usual  perplexing 
rules,  with  their  many  suicidal  exceptions. 

PRINCIPLE    FOR    RISING    OR    FALLING    SLIDES. 

Positive  ideas  should  have  the  *  falling*  slide; 
NEGATIVE  ideas  sliould  have  the  *  rising*  slide. 

Examples  for  tJie  rising  and  falling  slides. 

"The  war  must  go  on.  We  must  fight  it  through.  And  if 
the  war  must  go  on,  why  put  off  longer  the  declaration  of  inde- 
pendence? That  measure  will  strengthen  us.  It  will  give  us 
character  abroad. 

"  The  cause  will  raise  up  armies  ;  the  cause  will  create  navies. 
The  people,  the  people,  if  we  are  true  to  them,  will  carry  lis, 
and  will  carry  themselves,  gloriously  through  this  struggle. 
Sir,  the  declaration  will  inspire  the  people  with  increased 
courage.  Instead  of  a  long  and  bloody  war  for  restoration 
of  privileges,  for  redress  of  grievances,  for  chartered  immuni- 
ties, held  under  a  British  king,  set  before  them  the  glorious 
object  of  entire  independence,  and  it  will  breathe  iato  them 
anew  the  breath  of  life. 


rNTEODUCTOPtY    TREATISE.  31 

**  ThroTigli  the  thick  gloom  of  the  present,  I  see  the  bright- 
ness of  the  future,  as  the  sun  in  heaven.  We  shall  make  this 
a  glorious,  an  immortal  day.  When  we  are  in  our  graves,  out 
children  will  honor  it.  They  will  celebrate  it  with  thanksgiv- 
ing, with  festivity,  with  bonfires,  and  illuminations.  On  its 
annual  return,  they  will  shed  tears,  copious,  gushing  tears,  not 
of  subjection  and  slavery,  not  of  agony  and  distress,  but  of 
exultation,  of  gratitude,  and  of  joy." 

QUESTIONS. 

Questions,  like  other  ideas,  arc  negative,  or  positive,  or 
compound,  having  one  negative  and  one  positive  idea. 

DIRECT    QUESTIONS. 

The  direct  question  for  information  affirms  nothing.  ITenco 
it  is  read  with  the  rising  slide,  not  because  it  may  be  answered 
by  yes  or  no,  but  because  it  is  in  its  nature  negative. 

The  answer  is  positive,  and,  for  that  reason,  is  read  with 
the  falling  slide. 

**  Do  you  see  that  beautiful  star  ?  "     "  Yes ;  " 
*'Is  n't  it  splendid?" 

The  speaker  is  positive,  in  tlic  last  (jvicstlon,  that  his  friend 
will  agree  with  him.  This,  and  all  such,  must  be  read,  thcre^- 
fore,  with  the  falling  slide. 

'*  I  said  an  elder  soldier,  not  a  better. 
Did  I  say  better  ?  " 

*'  He  hath  brought  many  captives  home  to  Ptome, 
Whose  ransoms  did  the  general  coffers  fill ; 
Did  this  in  Caesar  seem  ambitious?" 

**  You  all  did  see,  that  on  the  Liipercal, 
I  thrice  presented  him  a  kingly  crown ; 
Which  he  did  thrice  refuse.     Was  this  ambition  ?  " 

"  Tell  me,  ye  who  tread  the  sods  of  yon  sacred  height,  is 
Warren  dead  ?     Can  you  not  still  see  him,  not  pale  and  proa^ 


32  INTRODUCTORY    TREATISE. 

trate,  the  blood  of  his  gallant  heart  pouring  out  of  his  ghastly 
Avoiind,  but  moving  resplendent  over  the  field  of  honor,  v:\th 
the  rose  of  heaven  upon  his  cheek,  and  the  fire  of  liberty  in 
his  eye  ? 

**  But  when  shall  we  be  stronger?  Will  it  be  the  next  week, 
or  the  next  year?" 

This  reading,  with  iho  fallinf;  slide  on  **9/ear,"  changes  the 
sense,  as  it  makes  one  idea  positive,  and  the  answer  must  be 
*'ncxt  week,"  or  "next  year."  But  both  ideas  are  negGtice 
in  Henry's  speech ;  both  must  have  the  rising  slide,  then, 
according  to  the  principle. 

'*  AT  ill  it  be  the  next  week,  or  the  next  year?  Will  it  be 
when  we  are  totally  disarmed,  and  when  a  British  guard  shall 
be  stationed  in  every  house?" 

"  Is  this  a  time  to  bo  gloomy  and  stid, 

AVhen  our  mother  Nature  laughs  around  ; 
"When  even  the  deep  blue  heavens  look  glad. 

And  gladness  breathes  from  the  blossoming  ground  ?  " 

«*  *  Will  you  ride,  in  the  carriage,  or  on  horseback  ?'  *  I  pre- 
fer to  walk.'  " 

"'Will  you  read  to  us,  a  piece  of  prose,  or  poetry?* 
Allow  me  to  sing  instead.'  " 

**  Will  you  study  miisic,  or  French  ?  " 

All  the  ideas  are  iiegative  in  the  last  questions.  Change 
f;he  sense,  and  make  07ie  idevt,  positive  in  each  question,  and  we 
luivc  one  falling  slide  in  each. 

**  Will  you  ride  in  the  carriage,  or  on  horseback  ?  " 

*•"  Will  you  read  to  us  a  piece  of  prose,  or  p5etiy  ?" 

**  Will  you  study  music,  or  French  ?  " 


INTRODUCTORY    TREATISE.  83 

INDIRECT    QUESTIONS. 

"  AVTic-n  are  jou  going  to  Europe  ?  " 

The  prominent  idea  in  tins,  is  not  the  real  interrogative, 
the  idea  of  time  in  "when,"  but  the  positive  idea,  ''You  art 
going  to  J^jurope."  Hence  this,  and  all  such  questions  must 
\>Q  read  with  the  falling  slide. 

But  if  the  interrogative  is  made  the  prominent  and  era* 
phatic  idea,  (as  when,  the  answer  not  being  heard,  the  ques- 
tion is  rcj)eated,)  the  rising  slide  must  be  given. 

"  "When  are  jou  going  to  Europe  ?  " 

*'  Why  is  the  Forum  crowded? 
AVhat  means  this  stir  in  Eome  ?  " 

ADDRESS. 

The  address  also  is  positive  or  negative.  It  is  negative, 
and  read  with  the  rising  slide  or  suspension  of  the  voice,  when 
it  is  only  formal  and  unemphatic,  as  "  Friends,  I  come  not 
here  to  talk." 

When  emphatic  it  \b  positive  and  demands  the  falling  slide, 
as  in  the  respectful  opening  address  to  any  deliberative  body 
or  public  assembly.  ''  Mr.  President,''  '^  Ladies  and  Gentle- 
men.'' 

POSITIVE    ADDRESS    AND    QUESTIONS. 

**  Tell  me,  man  of  military  science,  in  now  many  months 
were  the  Pilgrims  all  swept  oif  by  the  thirty  savage  tribes, 
enumerated  within  the  early  limits  of  New  England  ?  Tell 
me,  politician,  how  long  did  this  shadow  of  a  colony,  on  which 
your  conventions  and  treaties  had  not  smiled,  languish  on  the 
distant  coast?  Student  of  history,  compare  for  me  the  baffled 
projects,  the  abandoned  adventures  of  other  times,  and  find  a 
parallel  of  this." 

**  TTas  it  the  winter's  storm  beating  upon  the  houseless  heads 

of  women  and  children  ;  was  it  hard  labor  and  spare  meals ; 

—  was  it  disease,  —  was  it  the  tomahawk,  —  was  it  the  deep 

malady  of  a  blighted  hope,  a  ruined  enterprise,  and  a  broken 

d 


34  INTRODUCTORY    TREATISE. 

heart,  aching  in  its  last  moments  at  the  recollection  of  the 
loved,  and  left  beyond  the  sea ;  was  it  some  or  all  of  these 
united  that  hurried  this  forsaken  company  to  their  melancholy 
fate  ?  " 

Thtise  questions  must  be  read  with  the  "■falling '  slide,  to  give 
tlie  idea  jiositively  that  each  one  of  the  enumerated  causes  was 
sufficient  to  produce  the  supposed  result.  The  surprise  is  thus 
made  all  the  greater  in  the  next  sentence,  which  must  be  read 
as  an  earnest  negative  with  the  long  *  rising '  slide. 

"  And  is  it  possible  that  neither  of  these  causes,  that  not  all 
combined,  were  able  to  blast  this  bud  of  hope  ?  Is  it  possible 
that  from  the  beginning  so  feeble,  so  frail,  so  worthy  not  so 
much  of  admiration  as  of  pity,  there  has  gone  forth  a  progress 
so  steady,  a  growth  so  wonderful,  an  expansion  so  ample,  a 
reality  so  important,  a  promise  yet  to  be  fulfilled,  so  glorious  ! ' ' 

When  surprise  thus  deepens  into  astonishment,  as  it  fre- 
quently does  in  its  climax,  the  interrogative  form  should  be 
changed  to  the  exclamatory,  which  demands  the  falling  slide. 

"  Partakers  in  every  peril,  in  the  glory  shall  we  not  be  per- 
mitted to  participate  ?  And  shall  we  be  told  as  a  requital  that 
we  are  estranged  from  the  noble  country  for  whose  salvation 
our  life-blood  was  poured  out !  " 

CONTRASTED    SLIDES. 

When  ideas  are  contrasted  in  couples,  the  rising  and  falling 
slides  must  be  contrasted  in  reading  them.  Contrasted  slides 
may  also  sometimes  be  used  for  greater  variety  or  melody. 

EXAMPLE. 

1.  "  Sink  or  swim,  live  or  die,  survive  or  perish,  I  give  my 
hand  and  heart  to  this  vote." 

"  But,  whatever  may  be  (Sur  fate,  be  assured,  be  assured  that 
this  declaration  will  stand.  It  may  cost  treasure,  and  it  may  cost 
blood;  but  it  will  stand,  and  it  will  richly  compensate  for  both." 

*'  Suppose  that  you  see,  at  once,  all  the  hours  of  the  day 


INTRODUCTORY    TREATISE.  35 

and  all  the  seasons  of  the  year,  a  morning  of  spring,  and  a 
morning  of  autumn,  a  night  brilliant  with  stars,  and  a  night 
obscure  with  clouds  ;  —  you  will  then  have  a  more  just  notion 
of  the  spectacle  of  the  universe.  Is  it  not  wondrous,  that 
while  you  are  admiring  the  sun  plunging  beneath  the  vault  of 
the  west,  another  observer  is  beholding  him  as  he  quits  the 
region  of  the  east,  —  in  the  same  instant  reposing,  weary,  from 
the  dust  of  the  evening,  and  awaking  fresh  and  youthful,  in 
the  dews  of  morn!  " 

CIRCUMFLEX    SLIDES. 

straight  means  right,  crooked  means  wrong:  hence  right 
ideas  demand  the  right  or  straight  slides,  while  wrong  or 
croolced  ideas  demand  the  crooked  or  '  circumflex  slides' 

PRINCIPLE. 

All  sincere  and  earnest^  or,  in  other  words,  all  upright 
and  downright  ideas  demand  the  straight,  or  upright  and 
dow^nright  slides. 

All  ideas  which  are  not  sincere  or  earnest,  but  are 
used  In  jest,  or  Irony,  In  ridicule,  sarcasm,  or  mockery, 
in  insinuation  or  double-meaning,  demand  the  crooked 
or  *  circumflex  slides.^ 

The  last  part  of  the  circumflex  is  usually  the  longer,  and 
always  the  more  characterisric  part.  Hence  when  the  last 
part  of  this  double  slide  rises  it  is  called  the  'rising  cir- 
cumflex ;  '  when  the  last  part  falls,  it  is  called  the  'falling 
circumflex.' 

The  '  rising  circumflex '  should  be  given  to  the  negative,  the 
'falling  circumflex'  to  the  positive  ideas  of  jest,  irony,  &c. 
AVhen  these  ideas  are  coupled  in  contrast,  the  circumflex  slides 
must  be  in  contrast  also  to  express  them. 

Example  of  jest, 

Marulltjs.     You,  sir  ;  what  trade  are  yoii  ? 
2d  Citizen.     Truly,  sir,  in  respect  of  a  fine  workman,  I 
am  but,  as  you  would  say,  a  cobbler. 


36  INTRODUCTOHY    TliEATISE. 

Mar.     But  what  trade  art  thou  ?     Answer  me  directly. 

2d  Cit.  a  trade,  sir,  that,  I  hope,  I  may  use  with  a  safe 
conscience ;  which  is,  indeed,  sir,  a  mender  of  bad  soles. 

Mar.  What  trade,  thou  knave*?  thou  naughty  knave, 
what  trade  ? 

2d  Cit.  Nay,  I  beseech  you,  sir,  be  not  out  with  me  :  yet, 
if  you  be  out,  sir,  I  can  mend  you. 

Mar.  What  mean'st  thou  by  that  ?  Mend  me,  thou 
saucy  fellow  ? 

2d  Cit.     Why,  sir,  cobble  you. 

Flavius.     Thou  art  a  cobbler,  art  thou  ? 

2d  Cit.     Truly  sir,  all  that  I  live  by  is  with  the  awl. 

Flav.  But  wherefore  art  not  in  thy  shop  to-day?  W^hy 
dost  thou  lead  these  men  about  the  streets  ? 

2d  Cit.  Truly,  sir,  to  wear  out  their  shoes,  to  get  myseli 
into  more  work.  But,  indeed,  sir,  we  make  holiday,  to  see 
Cce'sar,  and  to  rejoice  in  his  triumph." 

In  the  last  sentence,  the  citizen  drops  his  jesting,  and  speaks 
in  earnest :  and  therefore  with  the  strcdyht  slides. 

Mxamples  of  sarcasm  and  irony. 

2.  '*  Now,  sir,  what  was  the  conduct  of  your  own  allies  to 
Poland  ?  Is  there  a  single  atrocity  of  the  French  in  Italy, 
in  Switzerland,  in  Egypt  if  you  please,  more  unprincipled  and 
inhuman  than  that  of  Eussia,  Austria,  and  Prussia,  in  Poland  ? 

"6,  but  you  'regretted  the 'partition  of  Poland!'  Yes, 
regretted! — you  regretted  the  violence,  and  that  is  all  you 
did." 

3.  They  boast  they  come  but  to  improve  our  state,  enlrirgc 
our  thoughts  and  free  us  from  the  yoke  of  error !  Yes,  they 
will  give  enlightened  freedom  to  oiir  minds,  who  are  tlicmselves 
the  slaves  of  passion,  avarice,  and  pride !  Tlicy  offer  us  pro- 
tection! yes,  such  protection  as  vultures  give  to  lambs  —  cover- 
ing and  devouring  them !  Tell  your  invaders  we  seek  no  change 
—  and   least  of  all  such  change  as  they  would  bring  us ! " 


INlT.ODUCTOIiY    TREATISE.  37 

4.  "  Good  Lord!  wben  one  man  dies  who  wears  a  Crown, 
How  the  earth  trembles,  —  how  the  nations  gape, 
Amazed  and  awed !  —  but  when  that  one  man's  victims, 
Poor  worms,  unclothed  in  purple,  daily  die 

In  the  grim  cell,  or  on  the  groaning  gibbet. 

Or  on  the  civil  field,  ye  pitying  souls 

Drop  not  one  tear  from  your  indifferent  eyes!" 

5.  Cassius.     Urge  me  no  more!  I    shall  forget   myself; 
Have  mind  upon  your  health  ;  tempt  me  no  further. 

Brutus.     Away,  slight  man ! 

Cas.     Is  't  possible '? 

Bru.     Hear  me,  for  1  will  speak. 
Must  I  give  way  and  room  to  your  rash  choler  ? 
Shall  I  be  frightened  when  a  madman  stares? 

Cas.     0  ye  gods  !  ye  gods !  Must  I  endure  all  this  ? 

Bru.     All   this?  Ay,   more.     Fret  till  your  proud  heart 
break  ; 
Go  show  your  slaves  how  choleric  you  are, 
And  make  your  bondmen  tremble  !     Must  I  budge  ? 
Must  I  observe  you  ?     Must  I  stand  and  crouch 
Under  your  testy  humor  ? 
You  shall  digest  the  venom  of  your  spleen. 
Though  it  do  split  you  ;  for,  from  this  day  forth, 
I'll  use  you  for  my  mirth,  —  yea,  for  my  laughter, 
When  you  are  waspish ! 

Cas.     Is  it  come  to  this ! 

Bru.     You  say  you  are  a  better  soldier: 
Let  it  appear  so  ;  make  your  vaunting  true, 
And  it  shall  please  mo  well.     For  mine  own  part, 
I  shall  be  glad  to  learn  of  nobler  men. 

LENGTH    OF     SLIDES. 

The  lenfffh  of  the  slides  depends  on  the  *  general  spirit '  or 
'  kind  '  af  what  is  read. 


38  I]!n:RODUCTOKY    TREATISE. 

PRINCIPLE. 

If  the  general  spirit  is  '  unemotional,*  the  slides  are 

*  mode  rate  J 

If  the  general  spirit  is  *  bold,'  *  joyous,'  or  'noble,' 
the  slides  are  '  long.' 

If  the    general    spirit    is   *  subdued  or   pathetic '   or 

*  grave,'  the  slides  are  *  short.' 

Examples  for  the  '  moderate '  slide,  or  in  the  definite  language 
of  music,  the  "  lliird." 

"  Can  I  speak  with  you  a  moment  ?  "     "  Certainly." 

*•  The  ancient  Spartans  were,  not  less  remarkable  for  their 
bravery  in  the  field  of  battle,  than  for  brevity  and  wit  in  their 
answers.  We  have  a  memorable  instance  of  their  national 
spirit,  in  the  reply  of  the  old  warrior,  who  was  told  that  the 
arrows  of  the  Persian  host  flew  so  thick  as  to  darken  the  sun. 
'  So  much  the  better,'  was  his  answer ;  '  we  shall  enjoy  the 
advantage  of  fighting  in  the  shade.'  " 

Examples  for  the  '  long,*  slide  or  the  "  Fifths 

"  AVhat  but  liberty 
Through  the  famed  course  of  thirteen  hundred  years, 
Aloof  hath  held  invasion  from  your  hills. 
And  sanctified  their  name  ?     And  will  ye,  will  ye 
Shrink  from  the  hopes  of  the  expecting  world, 
Bid  your  high  honors  stoop  to  foreign  insult, 
And  in  one  hour  give  up  to  infamy 
The  harvest  of  a  thousand  years  of  glory  ? 
Die  —  all  first !  Yes,  die  by  piecemeal ! 
Leave  not  a  limb  o'er  which  a  Dane  can  triumph! 

"  True  courage  but  from  opposition  grbws  ; 
And  what  are  fifty  what  a  thousand  slaves, 
Matched  to  the  virtue  of  a  single  arm 
That  strikes  for  liberty  ?  that  strikes  to  save 


INTHODUCTOKY    TllEATISE.  39 

His  fields  from  fire,  his  infants  from  the  sword, 
And  his  large  honors  from  eternal  infamy  ?  " 

**  Ye  men  of  Sweden,  wherefore  are  ye  come? 
See  ye  not  yonder,  how  the  locusts  swarm, 
To  drink  the  fountains  of  your  honor  up. 
And  leave  your  hills  a  desert  ?     Wretched  men  I 
Why  came  ye  forth  ?     Is  this  a  time  for  sport  ? 
Or  are  ye  met  with  song  and  jovial  feast, 
To  welcome  your  new  guests,  your  Danish  visitants  ? 
To  stretch  your  supple  necks  beneath  their  feet 
And  fawning  lick  the  dust  ?     Go,  go,  my  countrymen. 
Each  to  your  several  mansions,  trim  them  out, 
Cull  all  the  tedious  earnings  of  your  toil. 
To  purchase  bondage.  —  0,  Swedes !  Swedes ! 
Heavens !  are  ye  men  and  will  ye  suffer  this  ?  — 
There  was  a  time,  my  friends,  a  glorious  time ! 
When,  had  a  single  man  of  your  forefathers 
Upon  the  frontier  met  a  host  in  arms, 
His  courage  scarce  had  turned ;  himself  had  stood. 
Alone  had  stood,  the  bulwark  of  his  country." 

Example  for  the  'short'  slide,  or  the  "  Minor  Third'' 

"  Dear,  gentle,  patient,  noble  Nell  was  dead.  Her  little  bird, 
—  a  poor,  slight  thing  the  pressure  of  a  finger  would  have 
crushed,  —  was  stirring  nimbly  in  its  cage,  and  the  strong 
heart  of  its  child-mistress  was  mute  and  motionless  forever  ! 

"Sorrow  was  dead,  indeed,  in  her;  but  peace  and  perfect 
happiness  were  born,  —  imaged  —  in  her  tranquil  beauty  and 
profound  repose. 

**  Waking,  she  never  wandered  in  her  mind  but  once,  and 
that  was  at  beautiful  miisic,.  which,  she  said,  was  in  the  air ! 
God  knows.     It  may  have  been. 

V  Opening  her  eyes  at  last  from  a  very  quiet  sleep,  she 
begged  that  they  would  kiss  her  once  again.  That  done,  she 
turned  to  the  old  man,  with  a  lovely  smile  upon  her  face,  — 
such,  they  said,  as  they  had  never  seen,  and  never  could  for- 


40  I^'T^iQDUOTOn^  treatise. 

get  —  and  clung,  with  both  her  arms,  about  his  neck.  She 
had  never  murmured  or  complained ;  but  with  a  qiiict  mind, 
and  manner  quite  unaltered,  —  save  that  she  every  day  became 
more  earnest  and  more  grateful  to  them,  —  faded  like  the  light 
upon  the  summer's  evening." 

PITCH. 

1.  The  ' standard  pitch'  or  'key-note,*  2.  The  'relative 
pitch  '  or  '  melody,* 

The  middle  pitch  is  the  natural  key-note  for  *  unemotional/ 
*  bold,'  and  *  noble '  pieces.  A  higher  pitch  is  the  natural  key- 
note for  *  animated  and  joyous,' '  subdued  or  pathetic,'  and  '  im- 
passioned '  pieces.  A  loiver  pitch  is  required  for  '  grave  '  pieces. 

The  middle  or  conversational  pitch  must  be  used  for  all 
'kinds '  when  pupils  have  not  the  requisite  compass  or  cultiva- 
tion of  voice  to  read  naturally  on  a  higher  or  lower  •  key.' 

But  appropriate  variety  of  pitch  on  the  successive  words 
and  syllables,  is  one  of  the  most  essential  and  beautiful  parts 
of  good  reading.  In  perfect  elocution,  it  adds  to  the  eloquence 
0^ expressive  emphasis,  the  musical  charm  of  'natural  melody.* 

NATURAL    MELODY 

Is  produced  in  part  by  that  agreeable  modulation  of  all  the 
elements  of  expression,  which  the  varied  sense  and  feeling 
demand,  yet  it  cliiefly  depends  on  a  pleasing  variation  of  the 
radical  or  opening  pitch,  on  successive  syllables. 

PRINCIPLE. 

1.  Not  more  than  two  or  three  consecutive  syllables 
should  be  given  on  the  same  tone  of  the  "  musical  scale." 

2.  Natural  melody  demands  that  this  frequent 
change  of  pitch  on  the  unemphatic  syllables  shall  be 
only  one  tone  at  a  time. 

Tlie  unemphatic  syllables  form  a  kind  of  flexible  ladder 
connecting  the  emphatic  ideas,  up  and  down  which  we  must 
glide  tone  by  to7ie,  so  as  to  be  in  the  right  place  to  give  the 
longer  slides  on  the  emphatic  words  without  an  unmclodious 
break  in  the  natural  current  of  the  voice,  which  should  flow  on 
smoothly  through  all  changes,  (unless  there  is  an  abrupt  break 


rN-TKODUCTORY    TliEATISE.  41 

in  the  ideas,)  just  as  a  good  mad  runs  on  over  ever-varying 
hills  and  vales  without  ouce  losing  its  smooth  continuity. 

Melody  demands  that  the  pitch  on  runs-cutive  emphatic 
words  ah^o  be  agreeably  varied.  Our  limited  space  vvill  not 
allow  us  to  mark  the  many  possible  permutations  o\i  pitrh, 
which  may  constitute  natural  melody.  We  will  only  repeat 
the  iiiiportant  general  directions.  Avuid  irionotony,  by  giving 
at  most  only  ta:o  or  tliree  consecutive  syllables,  on  the  same 
tone 

Avoid  making  unnatural  changes  of  pitch,  of  more  than  one 
tone  at  a  time. 

l\r.i  up  the  melody  on  the  negative  ideas,  so  that  you  will 
have  room  above  the  key-note,  to  slide  down  easily  on  the 
positive  ideas. 

COMPASS. 

The  compass  of  voice  which  should  be  used  also  depends  on 
the  '  spirit '  of  the  piece. 

The  most  'joyous 'and  most  'impassioned'  demands  the 
widest  range  of  pitch,   and  the  greatest  natural  variety. 

The  '  unemotional '  demands  only  moderate  compass.  The 
*  grave  '  demands  still  less  variety  and  compass.  And  when 
the  '  grave  '  deepens  into  s'lpcrnatural  awe  or  horror,  by  the 
game  analogy,  we  may  infer  that  natural  variety  or  melody 
gives  place  to  an  utmntural  sameness  of  utterance,  with  just 
that  little  variety  of  all  the  vocal  elements  which  is  necessary 
to  express  the  sense  at  all. 

Example  for  '  middle  pitch  '  and  '  moderate  compass.' 

"It  is  these  which  I  love  and  venerate  in  England.  I 
Fhould  feel  ashamed  of  an  enthusiasm  for  Italy  and  Greece, 
did  I  not  also  feel  it  for  a  land  like  this.  In  an  American,  it 
would  seem  to  me  degenerate  and  ungrateful,  to  hang  with 
passion  upon  the  traces  of  Homer  and  Virgil,  and  follow  with- 
out emotion,  the  nearer  and  plainer  footsteps  of  Shakspeare 
and  Milton." 

*  Joyous  '  example  for  '  higher  pitch '  and  '  wider  compass** 

**  There  was  a  sound  of  revelry  by  night, 

And  Belgium's  capital  had  gathered  the* 


42  INTEODUCTOKY    TREATISE 

Her  beauty  and  her  chivalry ;  and  bright 

The  lamps  shone  o'er  fair  women  and  brave  men. 

A  thousand  hearts  beat  happily,  and  when 
Music  arose  with  its  voluptuous  swell, 

Soft  eyes  looked  love  to  eyes  which  spake  again, 
And  all  went  merry  as  a  marriage-bell." 

Grave*  example  for  ♦  lower  pitch'  and  less  than  'moderate 
compass.' 

*♦  And,  —  when  I  am  forgotten,  as  I  shall  be, 
And  sleep  in  dull  cold  marble,  where  no  mention 
Of  me  more  must  be  heard  of,  —  say  I  taught  thee ; 
Say,  Wolsey,  that  once  trod  the  ways  of  glory, 
And  sounded  all  the  depths  and  shoals  of  honor, 
Found  thee  a  way,  out  of  his  wreck,  to  rise  in, 
A  sure  and  safe  one,  though  thy  master  missed  it 
Mark  but  my  fall,  and  that  that  ruined  me. 
Cromwell,  I  charge  thee,  fling  away  ambition  : 
By  that  sin  fell  the  angels ;  how  can  man  then. 
The  image  of  his  Maker,  hope  to  win  by  't  ? 
Let  all  the  ends  thou  aim'st  at  be  thy  country's. 
Thy  God's,  and  truth's:  then,  if  thou  fall'st,  0  Cromwell! 
Thou  fall'st  a  blessed  martyr  1  " 

VOLUME. 

*  JF^ttll  volume '  is  the  most  essential  element  in  the  truthful 
expression  of  '  noble  '  sentiment. 

1.  "  Mind  is  the  noblest  part  of  man;  and  of  mind,  riF^ 
THE  is  the  NOBLEST  distinction.  Honest  man,  in  the  ear  oi 
Wisdom,  is  a  grander  name,  is  a  more  h).gh-sounding  title,  than 
'peer  of  the  realm,  or  prince  of  the  blood.  According  to  the 
eternal  rules  of  celestial  precedency,  in  the  immortal  heraldry 
of  Nature  and  of  Heaven,  virtue  takes  place  of  all  things.  It 
is  the  nobility  of  angjblb!     It  is  the  majesty  of  GODl" 


INTKODUCTORT    TEEATISE.  43 

In  addition  to  'full  volume,'  'noble*  pieces  demand  slow 
time,  or  long  quantity  and  pauses,  long  slides,  and  loud 
but  smooth- swelling  force  on  the  emphatic  words.  Full 
volume  distinguishes  manly  sentiments  from  the  tnin  or  Jine 
tone  of  childlike  emotions. 

2.     "  But  strew  his  ashes  to  the  wind, 

Whose  sword  or  voice  has  served  mankind. 
And  is  he  dead  whose  glorious  mind 

Lifts  thine  on  high  ? 
To  live  in  hearts  we  leave  behind, 

Is  not  to  die. 

«*l3  *t  death  to  fall  for  Treedom's  right? 
He  's  dead  alone  that  lacks  her  light  I 
And  murder  sullies  in  Heaven's  sight 

The  sword  he  draws :  — 
"What  can  alone  ennoble  fight  ? 

A  noble  cause !  " 


STKESS. 

Stress  is  not  the  degree  but  the  hind  of  emphatic  force  we 
use.  The  same  degree  of  loudness  may  be  given  to  a  syllable 
abrvptly  and  suddtnly,  as  in  sharp  command,  or  smoothly  and 
gradually,  as  in  the  noble  examples  given  above.  This  sudden 
and  harsh  kind  of  force  we  will  call  *  abrupt  stress ;  '  tha 
other  '  smooth  stress. ' 


PRINCIPLE. 

'  Abrupt  stress '  should  be  given  to  all  ahnij)t  or  harsh 
ideas,  and  pleasant  or  *  smooth  %tress '  to  ail  good  or 
vleasant  ideas. 

Mere  command  is  abrupt ;  indignation,  anger,  defiance, 
revenge,  &c. ,  are  all  abrupt  in  their  very  nature  ;  and,  there- 
fore, must  be  read  with  the  *  abrupt  stresSk' 


14  ITS^TRODUCTORr    TREATISE, 

ABRUPT    STRESS. 

1.  Impatient  command. 

-'  Hence  !  home  you  idle  creatures,  get  you  home. 
You  Mocks,  you  stones,  you  WOESE  than  senseless  things 
Be  gone  / 

Eun  to  your  houses,  fall  upon  your  knees. 
Pray  to  the  gods  to  inierrmt  the  plague 
That  need^  must  light  on  this  ingratitude.** 

The   force  must  be  thrown  with  an  abrupt  Jerk  on  the 
emphatic  syllables. 

2.  Anger,      (Loitd  as  well  as   *  abrvpt '  force  and  *  lonj 
i'lides.^) 

'*  Cassius.    That  you  have  wronged  me  doth  appear  in  tliis  ; 
You  have  condemned  and  noted  Lucius  Pella, 
For  taking  bribes  here  of  the  Sardians ; 
Wherein,  my  letter,  praying  on  his  side, 
Because  I  knew  the  man,  was  slighted  off. 

Brutus.     You  wronged  yourself  to  write  in  such  a  case. 

Cas.     In  such  a  time  as  this  is  it  not  meet 
That  every  nice  offence  should  bear  its  comment  ? 

Bru.     Let  me  tell  you,  Cassius,  you  yourself 
Are  much  condemned  to  have  an  itching  palm ; 
To  sell  and  mart  your  offices  for  gold 
To  undeservers. 

Cas.     I  an  itching  palm  ? 
You  know  that  you  are  Brutus  that  speak  this, 
Or,  by  the  gods,  this  speech  were  else  your  last 

Bru.     The  name  of  Cassius  honors  this  corruption, 
And  chastisement  does  therefore  hide  his  head. 

Cas.     Chastisement? 

Bru.     Eemember  March,  the  ides  of  March  remember. 
Did  not  great  Julius  bleed  for  justice's  sake  ? 
What  villain  touched  his  body,  that  did  stab, 
And  not  for  justice?     What!  shall  one  of  us,  ^     ^ 


INrEODUCTORY    TREATISE.  45 

That  struck  tlie  foremost  man  of  all  this  -world, 
But  for  supporting  robbers, —  shall  we  now 
Contaminate  our  fingers  with  base  bribes, 
And  sell  the  mighty  space  of  our  large  honors, 
For  so  much  trash  as  may  be  grasped  thus  ? 
I  had  rather  be  a  dog,  and  bay  the  moon, 
Than  such  a  Eoman." 

3.     Defiance,      {Very   'abrupt*    and  ^lovd,*    with  *  long 

slides.') 

**  I  have  returned,  7i6t  as  the  right  honorable  member  has 
said,  to  raise  another  storm,  —  I  have  returned  to  protect 
that  constitution,  of  which  I  was  the  parent  and  the  founder, 
from  the  assassination  of  such  men  as  the  honorable  cfentle- 
man  and  his  unworthy  associates.  They  are  corrupt  —  they 
are  seditious — and  they,  at  this  very  moment,  are  in  a  con- 
SPLRACY  against  their  country  !  Here  I  stand  for  impeachment 
or  trial !  I  dare  accusation  !  I  defy  the  honorable  gentle- 
man !  I  defy  the  goveunment  !  I  defy  their  whole  PHA- 
LANX I  Let  them  come  forth  !  I  tell  the  ministers  I  will 
neither  give  them  quarter,  nor  take  it ! " 

,    4.     Indignation, 

**  Who  is  the  man,  that,  in  addition  to  the  disgraces  and 
mischiefs  of  the  war,  has  dared  to  authorize  and  associate  to 
our  arms  the  tomahawk  and  scalping-knife  of  the  savage?  — 
to  call  into  civilized  alliance  the  wild  and  inhuman  inhabitant 
of  the  woods?  —  to  delegate  to  the  merciless  Indian  the 
defence  of  disputed  rights,  and  to  wage  the  horrors  of  his 
barbarous  war  against  our  brethren  ?  My  lords,  we  are  called 
upon  as  members  of  this  house,  as  men,  as  Christian  men,  to 
protest  against  such  horrible  barbarity." 

SMOOTH   STRESS. 

All  pleasant  and  good  ideas  demand  *  smooth  stress  *  of 
force,  free  from  all  abruptness. 


46  INTRODUCTORY    TREATISE. 

In  'joyous'  pieces,  when  tlie  time  is  fast,  the  stress  must  be 
given  with  a  lu-el//,  springing  sivell  oi  the  voice,  which  throws 
the  force  smoothly  on  the  middle  of  the  sound.  Hence  it  is 
called  the  *  median  '  stress. 

^  Animated  and  joyous'  examples  for  smooth  stress. 

1.  "  His  cares  flew  away, 

And  visions  of  happiness  danced  o'er  his  mind. 

'♦  He  dreamed  of  his  home,  of  his  dear  native  bowers, 
And  pleasures  that  waited  on  life's  merry  morn ; 
While  memory  each  scene  gayly  covered  with  flowers, 
And  restored  every  rose,  but  secreted  its  thorn." 

In  the  following  example  of  *  noble,'  manly  joy,  the  happy 
median  stress  swells  with  the  same  smooth,  springing  force 
as  above,  but  with  more  fulness  and  longer  quantity  and 
pauses. 

2.  **  Fellow  Citizens,  —  I  congratulate  you,  —  I  give  you 
joy,  on  the  return  of  this  anniversary.  I  see,  before  and 
around  me,  a  mass  of  faces,  glowing  with  cheerfulness  and 
patriotic  pride.  This  anniversary  animates  and  gladdens 
and  unites  all  American  hearts.  Every  man's  heart  swells 
within  him,  —  every  man's  port  and  bearing  becomes  some- 
what more  proud  and  lofty,  as  he  remembers  that  seventy-five 
years  have  rolled  away,  and  that  the  great  inheritance  of 
liberty  is  still  his ;  his,  undiminished  and  unimpaired ;  his, 
in  all  its  original  glory ;  his  to  enjoy,  his  to  protect,  and  his 
to  transmit  to  future  generations." 

*  Subdued  *  example  for  gentle  hut  happy  median  or 
smooth  stress. 

"At  last,  Malibran  came  ;  and  the  child  sat  with  his  glance 
riveted  upon  her  glorious  face.  Could  he  believe  that  the 
grand  lady,  all  blazing  with  jewels,  and  whom  everybody 
seemed  to  worship,  would  really  sing  his  little  song?     Breath- 


INTRODUCTORY    TREATISE.  47 

less  lie  waited; — the  band,  the  whole  band,  struck  up  a  little 
plaintive  melody.     He  knew  it,  and  clapped  his  hands  for  joy. 

"  And  oh  !  how  she  sung  it !  It  was  so  simple,  so  mourn- 
ful, so  soul-subduing  ;  —  many  a  bright  eye  dimmed  with 
tears  ;  and  naught  could  be  heard  but  the  touching  words  of 
that  little  song,  —  oh  !  so  touching  ! 

"  Little  Pierre  walked  home  as  if  he  were  moving  on  the 
air.  What  cared  he  for  money  now  ?  The  greatest  singer 
in  all  Europe  had  sung  his  little  song,  and  thousands  liad 
wept  at  his  grief. 

"  Thus  she,  who  was  the  idol  of  England's  nobility,  went 
about  doing  good.  And  in  her  early,  happy  death,  when  the 
grave-damps  gathered  over  her  brow,  and  her  eyes  grew  dim, 
he  who  stood  by  her  bed,  his  bright  face  clothed  in  the  mourn- 
ing of  sighs  and  tears,  and  smoothed  her  pillow,  and  lightened 
her  last  moments  by  his  undying  affection,  was  the  little 
Pierre  of  former  days,  —  now  rich,  accomplished,  and  the 
most  talented  composer  of  his  day." 

*  NoUe '  example  for  prolonged,  fvll-sweUinjg  median  or 
smooth  stress. 

"  We  must  forget  all  feelings  save  the  one  ; 
We  must  behold  no  object  save  our  country;  — 
And  only  look  on  death  as  beautiful. 
So  that  the  sacrifice  ascend  to  Heaven, 
And  draw  down  freedom  on  her  evermore. 
*  But  if  we  fail  ?  '     They  never  fail,  who  die 
In  a  great  cause  !     The  block  may  soak  their  gore ; 
Their  heads  may  sodden  in  the  sun  ;  their  limbs 
Be  strung  to  city  gates  and  castle  walls  ;  — 
But  still  their  spirit  walks  abroad.     Though  years 
Elapse,  and  others  share  as  dark  a  doom, 
They  but  augment  the  deep  and  sweeping  thoughts 
W^hich  overpower  all  others,  and  conduct 
The  world,  at  last,  to  freedom ! " 


48  INTKODUCTORY    TREATISE. 

JExamples  for  the  longest  *  quantity '  and  fullest  *  swell'  of 
the  median  or  smooth  stress. 

*"  0  liberty  !  0  sound  once  delightful  to  every  Koman  ear  I 
0  sacred  privilege  of  Eoman  citizenship  !  once  sacred,  —  now 
trampled  on  I" 

«*  Ye  crags  and  peaks,  I  'm  with  you  once  again  I 

0  sacred  forms,  how  proud  you  look  I 
How  high  you  lift  your  heads  into  the  sky  I 
How  huge  you  are !  how  mighty  and  how  free  I 

**  Ye  guards  of  liberty, 

1  'm  with  you  once  again." 

**  The  land  that  bore  you  —  0  1 
Bo  honor  to  her !     Let  her  glory  in 
Your  breeding." 

"  These  are  Thy  glorious  works,  Parent  of  Good. 
Almighty  !  Thine  this  universal  frame, 
Thus  wondrous  fair !     Thyself  how  wondrous,  then  I  *' 

Example  for  *  noble  ^  hut  happy  *  median  stress.* 

'*  The  Lord  is  my  shepherd  ;  I  shall  not  want. 
*♦  He  maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures:  He  leadeth 
me  beside  the  still  waters.     He  restoreth  my  souL" 

QUALITY    OP    VOICE. 

Quality  of  voice  is  'pure  '  or  *  impure.* 
It  is  '  pure  '  when  all  the  breath  used  is  vocalized. 
It  is  '  impure '  or  aspirated  when  only  a  part  of  the  breath 
is  vocalized. 

PRINCIPLE. 

<  Pure  qualify '  should  be  used  to  express  all  pure 
ideas  ;  that  is,  all  good  and  agreeable  ideas. 


INTRODUCTORY    TREATISE.  49 

*  Impure  quality  ^^  or  aspirated,  should  be  used  to  ex- 
press all  impure  ideas ;  that  is,  all  had  or  disagreeable 
ideas. 

Examples  of  *  impure  quality.^ 

Painful  earnestness  or  anxiety  demands  this  'aspirated 
quality  '  with  *  abrupt  stress. ' 

1.  *♦  Take  care  I  your  very  life  is  endangered  I " 

2.  "  Oh  !  't  was  a  fearsome  sight !     Ah  me  I 

A  deed  to  shudder  at,  —  not  to  see." 

3.  "  "While  thronged  the  citizens  with  terror  dumb, 

Or  whispering  with  white  lips,  •'  The  foe  I  they  come, 
they  come  1 " 

4.  *'  He  springs  from  his  hammock,  he  flies  to  the  deck,  — . 

Amazement  confronts  him  with  images  dire,  — 
"VYild  winds  and  mad  waves  drive  the  vessel  a  wreck: 
The  masts  fly  in  splinters,  the  shrouds  are  on  fire  I 

"  Like  mountains  the  billows  tremendously  swell : 
In  vain  the  lost  wretch  calls  on  mercy  to  save ; 
Unseen  hands  of  spirits  are  ringing  his  knell, 

And  the  death-angel  flaps  his  broad  wing  o'er  the 
wave." 

Extreme  aspiration  should  mark  the  fear  and  horror  in  the 
following  words  of  Macbeth. 

5.  "I  '11  go  no  more : 
I  am  afraid  to  think  what  I  have  done  ;  ^ 
Look  on't  again  I  dare  not." 

Strmiff  aspiration  and  '  abrupt  stress,* 

6.  "I  am  astonished,  shocked,  to  hear  such  principles 
confessed,  —  to  hear  them  avowed  in  this  house,  or  in  this 
country ;  —  principles  equally  unconstitutional,  inhuman,  and 
unchristian !  " 

5 


50  INTRODUCTOKY    TREATISE. 

*  Bold*  and  *  impassioned*  examples  for  very  '  abrupt  stress 
and  '  aspirated  quality '  on  the  emphatic  words* 

7.  **  It  was  the  act  of  a  coward,  who  raises  his  arm  to  strike, 
but  has  not  the  courage  to  give  the  blow  !  I  will  not  call  him 
villian,  because  it  would  be  unparliamentary,  and  he  is  a  privj 
councillor.  I  will  not  call  him  fool,  because  he  happens  to  be 
chancellor  of  the  exchequer.  But  I  say  he  is  one  who  has 
abused  the  privilege  of  parliament  and  freedom  of  debate,  to  the 
uttering  of  language  which,  if  spoken  out  of  the  house,  I  should 
answer  only  with  a  blow  I  I  care  not  how  high  his  situation, 
how  low  his  character,  or  how  contemptible  his  speech ;  whether 
a  privy  councillor  or  a  parasite,  my  answer  would  be  a  blow  1 " 

8.  **  The  wretch,  who,  after  having  seen  the  consequences 
of  a  thousand  errors,  continues  still  to  blunder,  and  whose  age 
has  only  added  obstinacy  to  stupidity,  is  surely  the  object  of 
either  abhorrence  or  contempt,  and  deserves  not  that  his  gray 
hairs  should  secure  him  from  insult." 

9.  "  If  ye  are  beasts,  then  stand  here  like  fat  oxen  waiting 
for  the  butcher's  knife." 

This  quality  of  voice  demands  that  the  aspirates  and  the 
less  resonant  consonants  be  made  very  prominent  in  the  enun- 
ciation, while  the  purer  vowels  and  the  liquid,  pleasant  conso^ 
nants  reserve  their  prominence  till  pure  tone  is  required. 

All  examples  of  '  aspirated  quality  '  require  abrupt  stress. 

*  Contemptuous  and  ironical '  example, 

10.  "  But  base  ignoble  slaves,  —  slaves  to  a  horde 

Of  petty  tyrants,  feudal  despots,  lords 
Eich  in  some  dozen  paltry  villages,  — 
Strong  in  some  hundred  spearmen,  —  only  great 
In  that  strange  spell  —  a  name." 

Examples  of  ^ pure  quality* 

1.  **  That  which  befits  us,  imbosomed  in  beauty  and  won- 
der as  we  are,  is  cheerfulness  and  courage,  and  the  endeavor 
to  realize  our  aspirations." 


INTRODUCTORY    TREATISE.  61 

Example  of  pure  tonCy   with  lively,  median  stre.'^ 

2.  "  It  is  now  sixteen  or  seventeen  years  since  I  saw  the 
Queen  of  France,  then  the  Dauphiness,  at  Versailles,  and  surely 
never  lighted  on  this  orb,  which  sho  hardly  seemed  to  touch, 
a  more  delightful  vision. 

"  I  saw  her  just  above  the  horizon,  decorating  and  cheering 
the  elevated  sphere  she  just  began  to  move  in,  glittering  like 
the  morning-star,  full  of  life,  and  splendor,  and  joy." 

*  Lower  pitch*  and  *  slower  time.*  ^ Long  ijuantity*  and 
prolonged  median  stress. 

8.  **  0  !  what  a  revolution  !  and  what  a  heart  must  I  have 
to  contemplate  without  emotion,  that  elevation  and  that  fall ! 
Little  did  I  dream  that  I  should  have  lived  to  see  such  dis- 
asters  fallen  upon  her,  in  a  Xation  of  gallant  men,  in  a  Nation 
of  men  of  honor,  and  of  cavaliers !  I  thought  ten  thousand 
swords  must  have  leaped  from  their  scabbards,  to  avenge  even 
a  look  that  threatened  her  with  insult. 

"  But  the  age  of  chivalry  is  gone,  and  the  glory  of  Europe 
is  extinguished  forever." 

The  following  selection  from  Shelley'a  "  To  a  Skylark."  is 
full  of  rapturous  beauty,  and  requires  the  '  purest  tone  and 
the  smoothest  and  happiest  '  median  stress,'  prolonged  with 
swelling  fulness  on  the  emphatic  words: — 


4.  **  Hail  to  thee,  blithe  spirit,  — 

Bird  thou  never  wert,  — 
That  from  heaven,  or  near  it, 
Pourest  thy  full  heart 
In  profuse  strains  of  unpremeditated  art. 

"  Higher  still  and  higher 

From  the  earth  thou  springest  j 
Like  a  cloud  of  fire, 


52  INTRODUCTOKY    TREATISE. 

The  blue  deep  thou  wingest, 
And  singing  still  dost  soar,  and  soaring  ever  singest 

"  In  the  golden  lightning 
Of  the  sunken  sun, 
O'er  which  clouds  are  brightening, 
Thou  dost  float  and  run, 
Like  an  unbodied  joy  whose  race  is  just  begun, 

"  All  the  earth  and  air 
With  thy  voice  is  loud, 
As,  when  night  is  bare. 
From  one  lonely  cloud 
The  moon  rains  out  her  beams,  and  heaven  is  overflowed 

"  What  thou  art,  we  know  not ; 
What  is  most  like  thee  ? 
From  rainbow  clouds  there  flow  not 
Drops  so  bright  to  see. 
As  from  thy  presence  showers  a  rain  of  melody. 

"Better  than  all  measures 
Of  delightful  sound, 
Better  than  all  treasures 
That  in  books  are  found. 
Thy  skill  to  poet  were,  thou  scomer  of  the  ground ! 

"  Teach  me  half  the  gladness 
That  thy  brain  must  know, 
Such  harmonious  madness 
From  my  lips  would  flow. 
The  world  should  listen  then,  as  I  am  listening  now." 

*  Nolle  '  example  for  ^  pure  tone,*  to  he  given  also  with  full 
'median  stress.* 

'f  We  wish  that  this  column,  rising  towards  heaven  among 
the  pointed  spires  of  so  many  temples  dedicated  to  God,  may 


INTRODUCTORY    TREATISE.  53 

contribute  also  to  produce,  in  all  minds,  a  pious  feeling  of 
dependence  and  gratitude.  We  wish,  finally,  that  the  last 
object  on  the  sight  of  him  who  leaves  his  native  shore,  a^d 
the  first  to  gladden  him  who  revisits  it,  may  be  something 
which  shall  remind  him  of  the  liberty  and  glory  of  his  coun- 
try. Let  it  rise  till  it  meet  the  sun  in  his  coming ;  let  the 
earliest  light  of  morning  gild  it,  and  parting  day  linger  and 
play  upon  its  summit." 

*  Subdued  examples '  for  very  soft  force,  '  short  slides,'  and 
gentle,  'median  stress,'  and  the  'purest  quality.' 

"  I  thought  to  pass  away  before,  and  yet  alive  I  am ; 
And  in  the  fields  all  round  I  hear  the  bleating  of  the  lamb. 
How  sadly,  1  remember,  rose  the  morning  of  the  year ! 
To  die  before  the  snow-drop  came,  and  now  the  violet  's  here. 
0  sweet  is  the  new  violet,  that  comes  beneath  the  skies. 
And  sweeter  is  the  young  lamb's  voice  to  me  that  cannot  rise, 
And  sweet  is  all  the  land  about,  and  all  the  flowers  that  blow, 
And  sweeter  far  is  death  than  life  to  me  that  long  to  go. 

"  0  look !  the  sun  begins  to  rise,  the  heavens  are  in  a  glow  ; 
He  shines  upon  a  hundred  fields,  and  all  of  them  I  know. 
0  sweet  and  strange  it  seems  to  me,  that  ere  this  day  is  done, 
The  voice  that  now  is  speaking  may  be  beyond  the  sun  — 
Forever  and  forever ;  all  in  a  blessed  home  — 
And  there  to  wait  a  little  while  till  you  and  Effie  come  — 
To  lie  within  the  light  of  God,  as  I  lie  upon  your  breast  — 
And  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling  and  the  weary  are  at  rest." 

*  Joyous '  example  for  'pure  quality '  and  happy '  median  stress.^ 

"  And  what  is  so  rare  as  a  day  in  June  ? 
Then,  if  ever,  come  perfect  days ; 
Then  Heaven  tries  the  earth  if  it  be  in  tune, 
And  over  it  softly  her  warm  ear  lays : 
Whether  we  look,  or  whether  we  listen, 
We  hear  life  murmur,  or  see  it  glisten ; 
6* 


64  INTRODUCTORY    TREATISE. 

Every  clod  feels  a  stir  of  might, 
An  instinct  within  it  that  reaches  and  towers, 
And,  groping  blindly  above  it  for  light, 
Climbs  to  a  soul  in  grass  and  flowers ; 
The  little  bird  sits  at  his  door  in  the  sun, 
Atilt  like  a  blossom  among  the  leaves, 
And  lets  his  illumined  being  o'errun 
With  the  deluge  of  summer  it  receives." 

A  striking  example  of  both  qualities  may  be  taken  from  the 
dialogue  between  "Old  Shylock"  and  "Portia."  The  tones 
of  Shylock's  voice,  to  express  his  spite  and  revenge,  must  be 
marked  by  the  most  abrupt  •  stress'  and  'aspirated  or  impure 
quality ;  '  while  the  beautiful  sentiments  of  Portia  demand 
the  *  smoothest  stress  '  and  *  purest  quality,* 

"  Portia.     Do  you  confess  the  bond  ? 

Antonio.     I  do. 

PoR.     Then  must  the  Jew  be  merciful. 

Shylock.    On  what  compulsion  must  I  ?    Tell  me  that. 

PoR,     The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strained ; 
It  droppeth  as  the  gentle  rain  from  heaven 
Upon  the  place  beneath :  it  is  twice  bless' d ; 
It  blesseth  him  that  gives,  and  him  that  takes : 
*T  is  mightiest  in  the  mightiest :  it  becomes 
The  throned  monarch  better  than  his  crown  : 
It  is  enthroned  in  the  hearts  of  kings, 
It  is  an  attribute  to  God  himself. 
And  earthly  power  doth  then  shew  likest  God's, 
When  mercy  seasons  justice." 


Having  thus  treated  of,  and  illustrated  with  various  kinds 
of  pieces,  each  one  of  the  elements  of  elocution,  separately,  let 
us  now  finish  our  work  by  learning  how  all  these  separate 
elements  unite  together  and  Ucnd  in  the  natural  expression  of 
^cA  '  kind  *  of  eentimeut. 


INTRODUCTORY    TREATISE.  56 

*  Unemotional '  pieces  should  have  *  moderate '  *  standard 
force '  and  '  time '  and  '  slides '  and  *  volume/  '  middle  pitch,' 
*  smooth  stress,'  and  *  pure  quality  '  of  voice. 

Unemotional  Example. 
*'  There  is  something  noblj  simple  and  pure  in  a  taste  for 
the  cultivation  of  forest  trees.  It  argues,  I  think,  a  sweet 
and  generous  nature,  to  have  a  strong  relish  for  the  beauties 
of  vegetation,  and  a  friendship  for  the  hardy  and  glorious  sons 
of  the  forest.  He,  who  plants  an  oak,  looks  forward  to  future 
ages,  and  plants  for  posterity.  Nothing  can  he  less  selfish  than 
this.  He  cannot  expect  to  sit  in  its  shade  and  enjoy  its  shelter; 
but  he  exults  in  the  idea  that  the  acorn  which  he  has  buried 
in  the  earth  shall  grow  up  into  a  lofty  pile,  and  shall  keep  on 
flourishing  and  increasing  and  benefiting  mankind,  long  after 
he  shall  have  ceased  to  tread  his  paternal  fields." 

*  Bold '  pieces  should  have  *  loud  *  '  standard  force,'  *  long 
slides,'  'moderate  time,'  with  long  quantity  on  the  emphatio 
Byllables,  *  middle  pitch,'  '  abrupt  stress,'  and  slightly  '  aspi- 
rated quality.' 

Bold  Example. 

"  Who,  then,  caused  the  strife 
That  crimsoned  Naseby's  field,  and  Marston's  Moor  ? 
It  was  the  Stuart ;  —  so  the  Stuart  fell ! 
A  victim,  in  the  pit  himself  had  digged  ! 
He  died  not,  sirs,  as  hated  kings  have  died, 
In  secret  and  in  shade,  —  no  eye  to  trace 
The  one  step  from  their  prison  to  their  pall : 
He  died  in  the  eyes  of  Europe,  —  in  the  face 
Of  the  broad  Heaven  ;  amidst  the  sons  of  England, 
AVhom  he  had  outraged ;  by  a  solemn  sentence. 
Passed  by  a  solemn  Court.     Does  this  seem  guilt  ?. 
You  pity  Charles  I  *t  is  well ;  but  pity  more 
The  tens  of  thousand  honest  humble  men, 
"Who,  by  the  tyranny  of  Charles  compelled 
To  draw  the  sword,  fell,  butchered  in  the  field  I" 


66  INTRODUCTORY    TREATISE. 

'Animated  or  joyous' pieces  should  have 'fast time,* lively, 
springing  'median  stress,'  *  pure  quality,'  '  long  slides,*  'high 
pitch,'  and  *  loud  force.' 

Joyous  Example, 

"  You  must  wake  and  call  me  early,  call  me  early,  mother  dear, 
To-morrow '11  be  the  happiest  time  of  all  the  glad  New-Year; 
Of  all  the  glad  New- Year,  mother,  the  maddest,  merriest  day; 
For  I  'm  to  be  Queen  o*  the  May,  mother,  I  'm  to  be  Queen  o' 
the  May. 

**  I  sleep  so  sound  all  night,  mother,  that  I  shall  never  wake, 
If  you  do  not  call  me  loud  when  the  day  begins  to  break : 
But  I  must  gather  knots  of  flowers,  and  buds  and  garlands  gay, 
Por  I  'm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  May,  mother,  I  'm  to  be  Queen  o* 
the  May." 

*  Subdued  or  pathetic*  pieces  should  have  *  soft  force,'  '  short 
(or  minor)  slides,'  •  slow  time,' gentle  *  median  stress,'  'pure 
quality,'  'high  pitch,*  and  less  than  'moderate  volume.* 

Subdued  or  Pathetic  Example. 

**  If  you  're  waking  call  me  early,  call  me  early,  mother  dear. 

For  I  would  see  the  sun  rise  upon  the  glad  New- Year. 

It  is  the  last  New- Year  that  I  shall  ever  see, 

Then  you  may  lay  me  low  i'  the  mould  and  think  no  more  of  me. 

"  To-night  I  saw  the  sun  set !  he  set  and  left  behind 
The  good  old  year,  the  dear  old  time,  and  all  my  peace  of  mind. 
And  the  New-YeAr  's  coming  up,  mother,  but  I  shall  never  see 
The  blossom  on  the  blackthorn,  the  leaf  upon  the  tree." 

*  Grave  *  pieces  should  have  *  low  pitch,'  '  slow  time,*  with 
*long  quantity  and  pauses,'  'full  volume'   'soft  force'    and 

*  short  slides'  —  also  •  smooth  stress'  and  'pure  quality*  when 
the  ideas  are  reverential  or  solemn  merely  —  but  more  or  less 

*  abrupt  stress '  and  *  aspirated  quality '  when  characterized  by 
fear  or  aversion,  as  in  '  dread,'  *  awe,*  and  '  horror.' 


INTRODUCTORY   TREATISE.  67 

Grave  Example. 

**  Come  to  the  bridal  chamber,  —  Death ! 
Come  to  the  mother,  when  she  feels 
Tor  the  first  time  her  first-born's  breath ; 
Come  when  the  blessed  seals 
That  close  the  pestilence  are  broke, 
And  crowded  cities  wail  its  stroke ; 
Come  in  Consumption's  ghastly  form, 
The  earthquake  shock,  the  ocean  storm, 
Come  when  the  heart  beats  high  and  warm 
With  banquet-song  and  dance  and  wine,  — 
And  thou  art  terrible  !  the  tear,  — 
The  groan,  —  the  knell,  — the  pall,  —  the  bier. 
And  all  we  know,  or  dream,  or  fear, 
Of  agony  are  thine. 

*  Noble'  pieces  should  have  ' full- swelling  volume'  and 
*  median  stress,'  with  '  long  quantity '  and  '  long  slides>'  *  loud 
force,'  *  pure  quality,'  and  '  middle  pitch.' 

Nolle  Example. 

**  But  to  the  hero,  when  his  sword 
Has  won  the  battle  for  the  free, 
Thy  voice  sounds  like  a  prophet's  word, 
And  in  its  hollow  tones  are  heard 
The  thanks  of  millions  yet  to  be. 
Bozzaris !  with  the  storied  Brave 
Greece  nurtured  in  her  glory's  time, 
Best  thee  !  there  is  no  prouder  grave, 
Even  In  her  own  proud  clime. 
We  tell  thy  doom  without  a  sigh ; 
For  thou  art  Freedom's  now  and  Fame's, — 
One  of  the  few,  the  immortal  names, 
That  were  not  born  to  die  I  " 

Both  *  ludicrous*  and  'sarcastic'  pieces  should  have  long 
circumflex  slides '  and  *  compound '  'abrupt  stress,'  'long  quan- 


58  INTEODUCTORr    TREATISE. 

tity  and  pauses '  on  the  emphatic  words ;  but  punning  and 
raillery,  when  good-natured,  should  have  a  'higher  pitch,' 
'faster  time,'  and  'purer  quality'  than  belongs  to  sarcasm 
"which  should  have  the  '  middle  pitch,'  *  aspirated  quality,'  and 
rather  '  slow  time.'    With  both  kinds  the  '  force '  changes  from 

*  moderate '  to  louder  with  the  boldness  of  the  spirit. 

In  the  following  example  the  part  of  Sir  Peter  Teazle  should 
be  read  with  strongly  *  aspirated  quality '  and  *  abrupt  stress,* 
while  the  half-laughing  raillery  of  Lady  T.  should  have  the 

*  pure  quality '  and  '  tremulous  stress '  mingled  with  the  *  com- 
pound.' and  '  higher  pitch '  and  '  less  volume.' 

lyudicrous  or  sarcastic  example. 

"  Sir  Peter.  Very  well,  ma'am,  very  well  —  so  a  husband 
is  to  have  no  influence,  no  authority  ? 

Lady  T.  Authority!  No,  to  be  sure:  —  if  you  wanted 
authority  over  me,  you  should  have  adopted  me,  and  not 
married  me ;  I  am  sure  you  were  old  enough. 

Sir  p.  Old  enough !  —  ay,  there  it  is.  Well,  well.  Lady 
Teazle,  though  my  life  may  be  made  unhappy  by  your  temper 
I'll  not  be  ruined  by  your  extravagance. 

Lady  T.  My  extravagance!  Sir  Peter,  am  I  to  blame 
because  flowers  are  dear  in  cold  weather?  You  should  find 
fault  with  the  climate,  and  not  with  me.  For  my  part,  I  'm 
sure,  I  wish  it  was  spring  all  the  year  round,  and  that  roses 
grew  under  our  feet ! 

Sir  p.  Zounds!  madam  —  if  you  had  been  born  to  this, 
I  should  n't  wonder  at  your  talking  thus ;  but  you  forget  what 
jour  situation  was  when  I  married  you. 

Lady  T.  No,  no,  I  don't ;  't  was  a  very  disagreeable  one,  or 
I  should  never  have  married  you.  Sir  Peter !  would  j'ou  have 
jae  be  out  of  the  fashion  ? 

Sir  p.  The  fashion,  indeed!  What  had  you  to  do  with 
the  fashion  before  you  married  me  ? 

Lady  T.  For  my  part,  I  should  think  you  would  like  to 
aav^  your  wife  thought  a  woman  of  taste. 

rfi^  P.  Ay,  there  again  —  taste.  Zounds!  madam,  you 
baa  iiO  taste  when  you  married  me  I 


INTRODUCTOKY    TREATISE.  59 

Ladt  T.  That's  very  true,  indeed,  Sir  Peter;  and  after 
having  married  you  I  should  never  pretend  to  taste  again,  I 
allow.  But  now,  Sir  Peter,  since  we  have  finished  our  daily 
jangle,  I  presume  I  may  go  to  my  engagement  at  Lady  Sneer- 
well's. 

Sir  p.  Ay,  there 's  another  precious  circumstance  —  a 
charming  set  of  acquaintance  you  have  made  there." 

Example  of  hitter  irony  and  sarcasm  closing/  with  the 
impassioned  kind. 

'•  I  speak  not  to  you,  Mr.  Eenwick,  of  your  own  outcast 
condition ;  —  perhaps  you  delight  in  the  perils  of  martyrdom : 
I  speak  not  to  those  around  us,  who,  in  their  persons,  their 
substance,  and  their  families,  have  endured  the  torture,  poverty, 
and  irremediable  dishonor.  They  may  be  meek  and  hallowed 
men,  willing  to  endure ;  and  as  for  my  wife  —  what  was  she 
to  you  ?  Ye  cannot  be  greatly  disturbed  that  she  is  in  her 
grave.  No,  ye  are  quiet,  calm,  prudent  persons ;  it  would  be 
a  most  indiscreet  thing  of  you,  you  who  have  suffered  no 
wrongs  yourselves,  to  stir  on  her  account. 

**  In  truth,  friends,  Mr.  Picnwick  is  quite  right.  This  feeling 
of  indignation  against  our  oppressors  is  a  most  imprudent 
thing.  If  we  desire  to  enjoy  our  own  contempt,  to  deserve  the 
derision  of  men,  and  to  merit  the  abhorrence  of  Heaven,  let  us 
yield  ourselves  to  all  that  Charles  Stuart  and  his  sect  require. 
AVe  can  do  nothing  better,  nothing  so  meritorious,  —  nothing 
by  which  we  can  so  reasonably  hope  for  punishment  here  and 
condemnation  hereafter.  But  if  there  is  one  man  at  this 
toecting,  —  I  am  speaking  not  of  shapes  and  forms,  but  of 
Teslings,  —  if  there  is  one  here  that  fceli  as  men  were  wont 
to  feel,  he  will  draw  his  sword,  and  say  with  me,  "Woe  to  the 
bouse  of  Stuart !  woe  to  the  oppressors !  " 

'  Impassioned  '  pieces,  such  as  the  last  of  the  example  above 
and  the  following,  should  have  '  very  loud  force,'  *  very  long 
glides,'  *vory  abrupt  stress.'     Time  accelerating  as  the  pas- 


60  INTEODUCTOllY    TREATISE. 

Bion  cuinulates,  from  'moderate'  to  'faster,'  with  'very  lon^ 
quantity'  on  the  emphatic  words,  'middie  and  hii^hcr  pit.h* 
and  'quality,'  (where  the  passion  is  not  malignant,)  only 
slightly  'aspirated.' 

Impassioned  example. 

"  *  My  castles  arc  my  king's  alone, 
Prom  turret  to  foundation  stone ; 
The  hand  of  Douglas  is  his  own, 
And  never  shall  in  friendly  grasp 
The  hand  of  such  as  Marmion  clasp  I ' 
Burned  Marmion' s  swarthy  cheek  like  fire, 
And  shook  his  very  frame  for  ire, 
And  '  This  to  mc  ! '  he  said ; 
*  An 'twere  not  for  thy  hoary  heard, 
Such  hand  as  Marmion's  had  not  spared 
To  cleave  the  Douglas's  head ! 
And,  Douglas,  more  I  tell  thee  here 
E'en  in  thy  pitch  of  pride, 
Here,  in  thy  hold,  thy  vassals  near, 
I  tell  thee,  thou  'rt  defied ! 
And  if  thou  saidst  I  am  not  peer 
To  any  lord  in  Scotland  here. 
Lowland  or  highland,  far  or  near, 
Lord  Angus,  thou  hast  lied ! ' 
On  the  earl's  check  the  flush  of  rage 
O'ercame  the  ashen  hue  of  age ; 
Fierce  he  hroke  forth :   '  And  dar'st  thou,  then, 
To  beard  the  lion  in  his  den. 
The  Douglas  in  his  hall  ? 
And  hop'st  thou  hence  unscathed  to  go  ? 
No  I  by  Saint  Bride  of  Bothwcll,  no  ! 
Up  drawbridge,  groom !     What,  warder,  ho  I 
Let  the  portcullis  fall ! '  " 


PART  II. 

EEA-DIN^a   LESSONS. 


L  — THE   TWO   ROADS. 

KiCHTER. 


[Jean  Paul  Frederic  Richter  was  born  in  Wunsicdel,  in  Germany,  March 
81,  irm,  and  died  November  14,  1825.  He  wrote  a  number  of  works,  mostly 
in  the  form  of  novels,  which  are  remarkable  for  a  peculiar  combination  of  im- 
agination, tenderness,  quaint  luimor,  phiJosopliic  spirit,  and  curious  learning. 
He  is  an  extremely  popular  writer  among  liis  c  wn  couutrymen,  but  mucii  of  the 
flavor  of  his  writings  evaporates  in  a  translation.  His  personal  character  was 
generous  and  amiable.  He  is  frequently  called  by  his  first  two  names,  Jean 
Paul.] 

1.  It  was  New-Year's  night.  An  aged  man  was  stand- 
ing at  a  window.  He  raised  his  mournful  eyes  towards  the 
deep-blue  sky,  where  the  stars  were  floating,  like  white 
lilies,  on  the  surface  of  a  clear,  calm  lake.  Then  he  cast  them 
on  the  earth,  where  few  more  hopeless  beings  than  himself 
now  moved  towards  their  certain  goal*  —  the  tomb. 

2.  Already  he  had  passed  sixty  of  the  stages'^  which 
lead  to  it,  and  he  had  brought  from  his  journey  nothing  but 
errors  and  remorse.  His  health  was  destroyed,  his  mind 
vacant,  his  heart  sorrowful,  and  his  old  age  devoid  of 
comfort. 

3.  The  days  of  his  youth  rose  up  in  a  vision'  before 
him,  and  he  recalled  the  solemn  moment  when  his  father 
had  placed  him  at  the  entrance  of  two  roads,  —  one  leading 
into  a  peaceful,  sunny  land,  covered  with  a  fertile  harvest, 
and  resounding  with  soft,  sweet  songs ;  the  other  leading 

6  (61) 


62  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

the  wanderer  into  a  deep,  dark  cave,  whence  there  was  no 
issue*,  where  poison  flowed  instead  of  water,  and  where 
serpents  hissed  and  crawled. 

4.  He  looked  towards  the  sky,  and  cried  out  in  his 
agony,  "O  youth,  return!  O  my  father,  place  me  once 
more  at  the  entrance  to  life,  that  I  may  choose  the  better 
way ! "  But  his  father  and  the  days  of  his  youth  had  both 
passed  away. 

5.  He  saw  wandering  lights  floating  away  over  dark 
marshes,  and  then  disappear.  These  were  the  days  of  his 
wasted  life.  He  saw  a  star  fall  from  heaven,  and  vanish  in 
darkness.  This  was  an  emblem*  of  himself ;  and  the  sharp 
an'ows  of  unavailing  remorse*  struck  home  to  his  heart. 
Then  he  remembered  his  early  companions,  who  entered 
on  life  with  him,  but  who,  having  trod  the  paths  of  virtue 
and  of  labor,  were  now  honored  and  happy  on  this  New- 
Year's  night. 

6.  The  clock,  in  the  high  church  tower,  struck,  and  the 
sound,  falling  on  his  ear,  recalled  his  parents'  early  love  for 
him,  their  erring  son ;  the  lessons  they  had  taught  him ; 
the  prayers  they  had  offered  up  in  his  behalf.  Over- 
whelmed with  shame  and  grief,  he  dared  no  longer  look 
towards  that  heaven  where  his  father  dwelt;  his  darkened 
eyes  dropped  tears,  and  with  one  despairing  effort,  he  cried 
aJoud,  "  Come  back,  my  early  days  !  come  back ! " 

7.  And>  his  youth  did  return ;  for  all  this  was  but  a 
dream  which  visited  his  slumbers  on  New-Year's  night. 
He  was  still  young ;  his  faults  alone  were  real.  He  thanked 
God  fervently  that  time  was  still  his  own ;  that  he  had 
not  yet  entered  the  deep,  dark  cavern,  but  that  he  was  free 
to  tread  the  road  leading  to  the  peaceful  land  where  sunny 
harvests  wave. 

8.  Ye  who  still  linger  on  the  threshold'  of  life,  doubting 
which  path  to  choose,  remember  that,  when  years  are 
passed,  and  your  feet  stumble  on  the  dark  mountain,  you 


THE    FIFTH   READER. 


6S 


will  cry  bitterly^,  but  cry  in  vain,  '-O  youth,  return  I 
give  me  back  my  early  days ! " 


o, 


^  Goal.  A  post  or  mark  set  to  bound 
a  race ;  end. 

*  Sta9'?§.  Steps  or  degrees  of  ad- 
vance or  progress. 

8  VI"§i<?N.  An  imaginary  appearance, 
as  seen  in  a  dream  or  in  sleep. 

1  Is'sVE  (isli'shi^).  Egress ;  passage  out. 


6  Em'blem.  a  picture  or  object  rep- 
resenting one  thing  to  the  eye  and 
another  to  the  understanding. 

6  Re-morse'.  Reproach  of  conscience. 

1  Thk£sh'qld.  a  door-Bill  j  begin- 
ning ;  entrance. 

8  BlT'T^R-Ly.    Sorrowfully. 


II.  — A   CHILD'S   DREAM   OF  A  STAR. 

Dickens. 

[Charles  Dickens  is  a  living  English  novelist,  of  great  original  genius  and 
■world-wide  popularity.  His  most  striking  characteristic  is  a  peculiar  and  origi- 
nal vein  of  humor.  He  also  excels  in  scenes  which  paint  sickness  and  death, 
especially  of  the  lovely  and  young.] 

1.  There  was  once  a  child,  and  he  strolled '  about  a  good 
deal,  and  thought  of  a  number  of  things.  He  had  a  sister, 
who  was  a  child  too,  and  his  constant  companion.  These 
two  used  to  wonder  all  day  long.  They  wondered  at  the 
beauty  of  the  flowers ;  they  wondered  at  the  height  and 
blueness  of  the  sky ;  they  wondered  at  the  depth  of  the 
bright  water;  they  wondered  at  the  goodness  and  the 
power  of  God,  who  made  the  lovely  world. 

2.  They  used  to  say  to  one  another,  sometimes,  "  Sup- 
posing all  the  children  upon  earth  were  to  die,  would  the 
flowers,  and  the  water,  and  the  sky,  be  sorry?"  They 
believed  they  would  be  sorry.  For,  said  they,  the  buds 
are  the  children  of  the  flowers,  and  the  little  playful 
streams,  that  gambol  down  the  hill-sides,  are  the  children 
of  the  water ;  and  the  smallest  bright  specks,  playing  at 
hide-and-seek  in  the  sky  all  night,  must  surely  be  the 
children  of  the  stars ;  and  they  would  all  be  grieved  to 
Bee  their  playmates,  the  children  of  men,  no  more. 


64  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

3.  There  was  one  clear,  shining  star,  that  used  to  como 
out  in  the  sky  before  the  rest,  near  the  church  spire  ^  above 
the  graves.  It  was  larger  and  more  beautiful,  they  thought, 
than  all  the  others,  and  every  night  the>  watched  for  it, 
standing  hand  in  hand  at  a  window.  Whoever  saw  it 
first,  cried  out,  "  I  see  the  star ! "  And  often  they  cried 
out  both  together,  knowing  so  well  when  it  would  rise, 
and  where.  So  they  grew  to  be  such  friends  with  it,  that, 
before  lying  down  in  their  beds,  they  always  looked  out 
once  again,  to  bid  it  good  night;  and  when  they  were 
turning  round  to  sleep,  they  used  to  say,  "  God  bless  the 
star!" 

4.  But  while  she  was  still  very  young,  —  O,  very,  very 
young,  —  the  sister  drooped,  and  came  to  be  so  weak  that 
she  could  no  longer  stand  in  the  window  at  night;  and 
then  the  child  looked  sadly  out  by  himself,  and,  when  he 
saw  the  star,  turned  round  and  said  to  the  patient,  pale 
race  on  the  bed,  "I  see  the  star!"  and  then  a  smile  would 
come  upon  the  face,  and  a  little,  weak  voice  used  to  say, 
"  God  bless  my  brother  and  the  star ! " 

5.  And  so  the  tiuie  came,  —  all  too  soon,  —  when  the  child 
looked  out  alone,  and  when  there  was  no  face  on  the  bed; 
and  when  there  was  a  little  grave  among  the  graves,  not 
there  before;  and  when  the  star  made  long  rays  down 
towards  him,  as  he  saw  it  through  his  tears. 

6.  Now,  these  rays  were  so  bright,  and  they  seemed  to 
make  such  a  shining  way  from  earth  to  heaven,  that  when 
the  child  went  to  his  solitary  bed,  he  dreamed  about  the 
star;  and  he  dreamed  that,  lying  where  he  was,  he  saw  a 
train  ^  of  people  taken  up  that  sparkling*  road  by  an- 
gels.* And  the  star,  opening,  showed  him  a  great  world 
of  light,  where  many  more  such  angels  waited  to  receive 
them. 

7.  All  these  angels,  who  were  waiting,  turned  their 
beaming®  eyes  upon  the  people  who  were  carried  up  into 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  65 

the  star;  and  some  came  out  from  the  long  rows  in  which 
they  stood,  and  tell  upon  the  people's  necks,  and  kissed 
them  tenderly,  and  went  away  with  them  down  avenues 
of  light,  and  were  so  happy  in  their  company,  that,  lying 
in  his  bed,  he  wept  for  joy. 

8.  But  there  were  many  angels  who  did  not  go  with 
them,  and  among  them  one  he  knew.  The  patient  face 
that  once  had  lain  upon  the  bed  was  glorified'  and  radiant ^j 
but  his  heart  found  out  his  sister  among  all  the  host. 

9.  His  sister's  angel  lingered  near  the  entrance  of  the 
star,  and  said  to  the  leader  among  those  who  had  brought 
the  people  thither,  "  Is  my  brother  come  ?  " 

10.  And  he  said,  "No." 

11.  She  was  turning  hopefully  away,  when  the  child 
stretched  out  his  arms,  and  cried,  '•  O  sister,  I  am  here ! 
Take  me ! "  And  then  she  turned  her  beaming  eyes  upon 
bim,  and  it  was  night ;  and  the  star  was  shining  into  the 
room,  making  long  rays  down  towards  him  as  he  saw  it 
through  his  tears. 

12.  From  that  hour  forth,  the  child  looked  out  upon 
the  star  as  on  the  home  he  was  to  go  to,  when  his  time 
should  come ;  and  he  thought  that  he  did  not  belong  to 
the  earth  alone,  but  to  the  star  too,  because  of  his  sister's 
angel  gone  before. 

13.  There  was  a  baby  born  to  be  a  brother  to  the  child ; 
and  while  he  was  so  little  that  he  never  yet  had  spoken  a 
word,  he  stretched  his  tiny  form  out  on  his  bed,  and 
died. 

14.  Again  the  child  dreamed  of  the  opened  star,  and  of 
the  company  of  angels,  and  the  train  of  people,  and  the 
rows  of  angels,  with  their  beaming  eyes  all  turned  upon 
those  people's  faces. 

15.  Said  his  sister's  angel  to  the  leader,  "Is  my  brother 
come  ?  " 

16.  And  he  said,  "Kot  that  one,  but  another." 

6* 


«y6  THE   FIFTH   READEE. 

17.  As  the  child  beheld  liis  brother's  angel  in  her  arms, 
he  cried,  "O  sister,  I  am  here!  Take  me!"  And  she 
tm-ned  and  smiled  upon  him,  and  the  star  was  shining. 

18.  He  grew  to  be  a  young  man,  and  was  busy  at  his 
books,  when  an  old  servant  came  to  him,  and  said,  "Thy 
mother  is  no  more.  I  bring  her  blessing^  on  her  darling 
«on.» 

19.  Again  at  night  he  saw  the  star,  and  all  that  former 
company.  Said  his  sister's  angel  to  the  leader,  "Is  my 
brother  come  ?  " 

20.  And  he  said,  "Thy  mother!" 

21.  A  mighty  cry  of  joy  went  foith  through  all  the 
star,  because  the  mother  was  reunited  to  her  two  children. 
And  he  stretched  out  his  arms,  and  cried,  "O  motlier, 
sister,  and  brother,  I  am  here!  Take  me!"  And  they 
answered  him,  "  Not  yet."    And  the  star  was  shining. 

22.  He  grew  to  be  a  man  whose  hair  was  turning  gray, 
and  he  was  sitting  in  his  chair  by  the  fireside,  heavy  with 
grief,  and  with  his  face  bedewed  *°  with  tears,  when  the  star 
opened  once  again. 

23.  Said  his  sister's  angel  to  the  leader,  "  Is  my  brother 
come  ? " 

24.  And  he  said,  *'  Nay,  but  his  maiden  daughter." 

25.  And  the  man  who  had  been  the  child  saw  his 
daughter,  newly  lost  to  him,  a  celestial"  creature  among 
those  three,  and  he  said,  "  My  daughter's  head  is  on  my 
sister's  bosom,  and  her  arm  is  round  my  mother's  neck, 
and  at  her  feet  there  is  the  baby  of  old  time,  and  I  can 
bear  the  parting  from  her,  God  be  praised ! "  And  the  star 
was  shining. 

26.  Thus  the  child  came  to  be  an  old  man,  and  his  once 
smooth  face  was  wrinkled,  and  his  steps  were  slow  and 
feeble,  and  his  back  was  bent.  And  one  night,  as  he  lay 
upon  his  bed,  his  children  standing  round,  he  cried,  as  be 
had  cried  so  long  ago,  "  I  see  the  star ! " 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


tr 


27.  They  whispered  one  another,  "  He  is  dying." 

28.  And  he  said,  "I  am.  My  age  is  falling  from  me  like 
a  garment,  and  I  move  towards  the  star  as  a  child.  And 
O,  my  Father,  now  I  thank  thee  that  it  has  so  often 
opened  to  receive  those  dear  ones  who  await  me  ! " 

29.  And  the  star. was  shining;  and  it  shines  upqn  his 
grave. 


1  Strolled.    Wandered  ;  strayed. 
s  Spire.    A  structure  which  tapers  to 

a  point  at  the  top  ;  a  steeple. 
»  Train.    A  number  of  objects  in  a 

line ;    a  number  of  persons  in  a 

line  ;  a  procession. 
4  Spark'lins.    Glittering  ;  bright,  as 

if  emitting  sparks. 
4  An '9  EL.    An  inhabitant  of  heaven ; 

a  good  spirit. 


8  Beam'jng.    Shining  ;  emitting  rays 

or  beams  of  light. 
1  Glo'ri-fied.    Made  glorious. 

8  Ra'd|-ant,     Shining;  effulgent. 

9  liLfiss'iNG.    Prayer  imploring  hap 

pincss  for  another. 

10  Be-dewed'    (be-dud').     Wet    with 

dew  or  as  with  dew  ;  moistened. 

11  Ce-lEst'i^l  (-y?l).      Of   heavea; 

heavenly. 


III.  — ONE  BY  ONE. 

Miss  Pkoctek. 

1.  OxE  by  one  the  sands  are  flowing, 

One  by  one  the  moments  fall ; 

Some  are  coming,  some  are  going; 

Do  not  strive  to  catch  them  all. 

2.  One  by  one  thy  duties  wait  thee ; 

Let  thy  whole  strength  go  to  each ; 
Let  no  future  dreams  elate '  thee ; 
Learn  thou  first  what  these  can  teach. 


3.    One  by  one  (bright  gifts  from  heaven) 
Joys  are  sent  thee  here  below ; 
Take  them  readily  when  given,— 
Ready,  too,  to  let  them  go. 


68  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

4   One  by  one  thy  griefs  shall  meet  thee; 
Do  not  fear  an  armed  band ; 
One  will  fade  as  others  greet  thee,  — 
Shadows  passing  through  the  land, 

5.  Do  not  look  at  life's  long  sorrow ; 

See  how  small  each  moment's  pain : 
God  will  help  thee  for  to-morrow  j 
Every  day  begin  again. 

6.  Every  hour,  that  fleets "  so  slowly, 

Has  its  task  to  do  or  bear; 
Luminous^  the  crown*,  and  holy, 
If  thou  set  each  gem  with  care. 

7.  Hours  are  golden  links  — God's  token 

Reaching  heaven;  but  one  by  one. 
Take  them,  lest  the  chain  be  broken 
Ere  thy  pilgrimage*  be  done. 


1  E-lXte'.    Elevate  as  with  success ; 

pviff  up. 
I  FlE£ts.    Passos  away. 
8  LO'MJ-Novs.  Emittiu-j light}  bright. 


*  Croa^n.    Reward  ;  recompense. 

6  PIl'grjm-a^e.  a  long  journey,  par« 
tieuliirly,  a  journey  to  a  plao« 
deemed  sacred ;  jouruey  of  life. 


IV.— HOW  SLEEP  THE  BRAVE. 

Collins. 
[WilHam  Collins  was  an  English  poet,  born  in  1720,  and  died  in  175«.    These 
lines  were  written  in  honor  of  the  men  who  fell  at  the  battle  of  Cullodon, 
April  16,  1740),  in  which  the  Scottish  rebels,  under  Prince  Charles,  were  defeated 
by  the  English,  under  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  ] 

1.   How  sleep  the  Brave,  who  sink  to  rest, 
By  all  tlieir  country's  wishes  blest ! 
When  Spring,  with  dewy  fingers  cold, 
Returns  to  deck  their  hallowed '  mould. 
She  there  shall  dress  a  sweeter  sod 
Than  Fancy's  feet  have  ever  trod. 


THE   FIFTH  EEADER. 


69 


2.  By  fairy ^  hands  their  knell  is  rung; 
By  forms  unseen  their  dirge  ^  is  sung : 
There  Honor  comes,  a  pilgrim*  gray, 
To  bless  the  turf  that  wraps  their  clay; 
And  Freedom  shall  a  while  repair, 
To  dwell,  a  weeping  hermit  \  there ! 


1  HXl  lowed.    Holy;  sacred. 
«  FAiR'Y.     A  fabled  small    beinj 

human  form. 
*  DiR<^E.    A  funeral  song. 


<  PIl'grim.  One  who  leaves  his  home 
or  country  on  account  of  religion. 

5  IlER'MiT.  One  who  retires  from  8C 
ciety  and  lives  in  solitude. 


v.  — THE   FORGIVEN  DEBT. 

L.  M.  Sargent. 

[Lucius  Manlius  Sarg^ent  was  born  June  25,  178fi,  and  died  June  2,  1867.  He 
was  a  frequent  coutributor  to  the  newspaper  press  of  Boston,  and  was  the  au- 
thor of  a  well-known  series  of  temperance  tales,  which  are  of  marked  merit,  and 
have  been  widely  read.] 

1.  About  the  beginning  of  the  present  century',  a 
Boston  merchant,  who  had  been  extensively  engaged  in 
commerce'-',  died  at  a  good  old  age,  without  leaving  any 
will.  He  had  been  for  many  years  largely  interested  in 
the  fishing  business,  and  his  name  was  familiar  to  all  the 
hardy  fishermen  of  Cape  Cod.  His  eldest  son  adminis- 
tered ^  upon  the  estate. 

2.  Among  his  papers,  a  packngc  of  considerable  size 
was  found,  after  his  death,  carefully  tied  up,  and  labelled 
as  follows:  "Notes,  due  bills,  and  accounts  against  sundry 
persons  down  along-shore*.  Some  of  these  may  be  got  by 
a  suit  or  severe  dunning.  But  the  people  are  poor;  most 
of  them  have  had  fisherman's  luck.  My  children  will  do 
as  they  think  best.  Perhaps  they  will  think,  with  me,  that 
it  is  best  to  burn  this  package  entire." 

3.  "About  a  month,"  said  my  informant,  "after  our 
fethei  died,  the  sons  met  together,  and,  after  some  general 


70  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

remarks,  our  eldest  brother,  the  administrator,  produced 
this  package,  of  whose  existence  we  were  ab*eady  apprised, 
read  the  superscription  ^,  and  asked  what  course  should  be 
taken  in  regard  to  it.  Anotlier  brother,  a  few  years 
younger  than  the  eldest,  a  man  of  strong,  impulsive  tem- 
perament, unable  at  the  moment  to  express  his  feeling  by 
words,  while  he  brushed  the  tears  from  his  eyes  with  one 
hand,  by  a  spasmodic "  jerk  of  the  other  towards  the  fire- 
place, indicated  his  desire  to  have  the  paper  put  into  the 
flames. 

4.  "  It  was  suggested  by  another  of  our  number,  that 
it  might  be  well  first  to  make  a  list  of  the  debtors'  names, 
and  of  tlie  dates  and  accounts,  that  we  might  be  enabled, 
as  the  intended  discharge  was  for  all,  to  inform  such  as 
miglit  offer  payment,  that  their  debts  were  forgiven.  On 
the  following  day  we  again  assembled ;  the  list  had  been 
prepared,  and  all  the  notes,  due  bills,  and  accounts,  whose 
amount,  including  interest,  exceeded  thirty-two  thousand 
dollars,  were  committed  to  the  flames. 

5.  "  It  was  in  the  month  of  June,  about  four  months 
afler  our  father's  death,  that,  as  I  was  sitting  in  my  eldest 
brother's  counting-room,  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to 
speak  to  him,  there  came  in  a  hard -favored',  little  old  man, 
who  looked  as  if  time  and  rough  weather  had  been  to 
the  windward  of  him  for  seventy  years.  He  asked  if  my 
brother  was  not  the  executor  ^  He  replied  that  he  was 
administrator,  as  our  father  died  intestate  ^  *Well,'  said 
the  stranger,  '  I  have  come  up  from  the  Cape  to  pay  a  debt 
I  owed  the  old  gentleman.'  My  brother."  continued  my 
imformant,  "requested  him  to  be  seated,  being  at  the 
moment  engaged. 

6.  "The  old  man  sat  down,  and,  putting  on  his  glasses, 
drew  out  a  very  ancient  leather  w^allet..  When  he  had 
done  this  and  sat,  with  quite  a  parcel  of  notes,  waiting  hia 
turn,  slowly  twirling  his  thumbs,  with  his  old,  gray,  modi- 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  71 

tatlve  eyes  upon  the  floor,  he  sighed ;  and  I  well  knew 
the  money,  as  the  phrase  runs,  came  hard,  and  I  secretly 
wished  the  old  man's  name  might  be  found  upon  the  for- 
given list.  My  brother  was  soon  at  leisure,  and  aslied  him 
his  name,  and  other  common  questions.  The  original  debt 
was  four  hundred  and  forty  dollars :  it  had  stood  a  long 
time,  and  with  the  interest  amounted  to  a  sum  between 
seven  and  eight  hundred  dollars. 

7.  "  My  brother  went  to  his  table,  and,  after  examining 
the  forgiven  list  attentively,  a  sudden  smile  lighted  up  his 
countenance,  and  told  me  the  truth  at  a  glance  —  the  old 
man's  name  was  there.  My  brother  quietly  took  a  chair 
by  his  side,  and  a  conversation  ensued  between  them,  which 
I  shall  never  forget.  '  Your  note  is  outlawed  'V  said  my 
brother ;  '  it  was  dated  twelve  years  ago,  payable  in  two 
years ;  there  is  no  witness,  and  no  interest  has  ever  been 
paid ;  you  are  not  bound  to  pay  this  note :  we  cannot  re- 
cover the  amount.' 

8.  " '  Sir,'  said  the  old  man,  *  I  wish  to  pay  it.  It  is  the 
only  heavy  debt  I  have  in  the  world.  I  should  like  to  pay 
it ; '  and  he  laid  the  bank  notes  before  my  brother,  and 
requested  him  to  count  them  over.  *I  cannot  take  this 
money,'  said  my  brother. 

9.  "  The  old  man  became  alarmed.  '  I  have  cast  simple 
interest"  for  twelve  years  and  a  little  over,'  said  the  old 
man.  'I  will  pay  you  compound  interest"  if  you  say  so. 
That  debt  ought  to  have  been  paid  long  ago ;  but  your 
father,  sir,  was  very  indulgent :  he  knew  I  had  been  unfor, 
tunate,  and  told  me  not  to  worry  about  it.' 

10.  "  My  brother  then  set  the  whole  matter  plainly  before 
him,  and,  taking  the  bills,  returned  them  to  the  old  man, 
telling  him,  that  although  our  father  left  no  formal  will,  he 
had  recommended  to  his  children  to  destroy  certain  notes, 
due  bills,  and  other  evidences  of  debt,  and  release  those 
who  might  be  legally  bound  to  pay  them      For  a  moment 


72  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

the  worthy  old  man  seemed  to  be  stupefied.  After  he  had 
collected  himself'*,  and  wiped  a  few  tears  from  his  eyes,  he 
stated,  that  from  the  time  he  had  heard  of  our  father's 
death,  he  had  raked  and  scraped,  and  pinched  and  spared, 
to  get  the  money  together  for  the  payment  of  this  debt. 

11.  "'About  ten  days  ago,'  said  he,  'I  had  made  up  the 
Bum  within  twenty  dollars.  My  wife  knew  how  much  the 
payment  of  this  debt  lay  upon  my  spirits,  and  advised  me 
to  sell  a  cow,  and  make  up  the  difference,  and  get  the  heavy 
burden  off  my  spirits.  I  did  so —  and  now  what  will  my 
wife  say  ?  I  must  get  home  to  the  Cape,  and  tell  her  this 
good  news.  She'll  probably  say  over  the  very  words  she 
said  when  she  put  her  hands  on  my  shoulder  as  we  parted 
— "I  have  never  seen  the  righteous  man  forsaken,  nor  his 
seed  begging  bread." '  After  a  liearty  shake  of  the  hand, 
and  a  blessing  upon  our  father's  memory,  he  went  upon  his 
way  rejoicing. 

12.  "After  a  short  silence,  seizing  his  pencil  and  making 
a  computation,  — '  There,'  exclaimed  my  brother, '  your  part 
of  the  amount  would  be  so  much  :  contrive  a  plan  to  con- 
vey to  me  your  share  of  the  pleasure  derived  from  this 
operation,  and  the  money  is  at  your  service.' " 


1  CfiNT'v-Ry.  A  period  of  one  hundred 
years. 

«  CSm'merce.  Traffic,  or  the  inter- 
change of  property  on  a  large  scale. 

8  i\D-MTN'is-TERED.  To administer  up- 
on  an  estate  is  to  manag'e  the  prop- 
erty of  one  who  has  made  no  will. 

♦  A-LONG'-SHdRE.  A  colloquial  term 
applied  to  places  along  the  coast 
or  shore  ;  here,  applied  to  the  shore 
in  the  south-eastern  part  of  Mas- 
sachusetts. 

6  Super  scrIp'tion.  What  is  writ- 
ten on  the  top  or  outside. 

6  Spa?-ivi6d'ic.    Convulsive. 

I  Hard-fa'vqred.  Having  coarse  or 
harsh  features. 


8  E?-tc'v-TQR.   One  appointed  by  a 

person,  in  his  last  will,  to  see  that 
his  will  is  carried  into  effect. 

9  In-t£s'tate.    Dying  without  hav- 

ing made  a  will. 

10  OOt'lAwed.   Ceased  to  have  a  legal 

value.  Notes  become  outlawed  in 
six  years  from  the  time  when  their 
payment  is  due. 

11  In'ter-est.     Money  paid  for  the 

use  of  money.  Simple  interest  is 
interest  upon  the  principal  only. 
Compound  interest  is  interest  upon 
both  the  principal,  and  the  interest 
that  has  become  due. 

12  Col-l15ct'ed  hIm-self  .   Became 

calm  or  composed. 


THE    FIFTH    READER.  73 


VI.  — AN   INDIAN   STRATAGEM. 


1.  DuRTXG  the  war  of  the  American  revolution,  a  regi- 
ment' of  foot  soldiers  was  stationed  upon  the  confines''  of 
an  extensive  savanna^  in  the  southern  part  of  the  Union. 
Its  particular  office  was  to  guard  every  avenue  of  approach 
to  the  main  army.  The  sentinels  *,  whose  posts  ^  penetrated 
into  the  woods,  were  supplied  from  the  ranks;  but  they 
were  perpetually  surprised  upon  their  posts  by  the  Indians, 
and  borne  off  their  stations,  without  communicating  any_ 
alarm,  or  being  heard  of  afterwards. 

2.  One  morning,  the  sentinels  having  been  stationed  as 
usual  over  night,  the  guard  went  at  sunrise  to  relieve  a  post 
which  extended  a  considerable  distance  into  the  wood. 
The  sentinel  was  gone.  The  surprise  was  great;  but  the 
circumstance  had  occurred  before.  They  left  another  man, 
and  departed,  wishing  him  better  luck.  "  You  need  not  be 
afroid,"  said  the  man,  with  warmth  ;  "  I  shall  not  desert." 

3.  The  sentinels  were  replaced  every  four  hours,  and,  at 
the  appointed  time,  the  guard  again  marched  to  relieve 
the  post.  To  their  inexpressible  astonishment,  the  man 
was  gone.  They  searched  round  the  spot,  but  no  traces 
of  him  could  be  found.  It  was  now  more  necessary  than 
ever  that  the  station  should  not  remain  unoccupied  ;  they 
left  another  man,  and  returned  to  the  guard-house. 

4.  The  superstition^  of  the  soldiers  was  awakened,  and 
terror  ran  throuo^h  the  reiriment.  The  colonel ',  beinoc 
apprised  of  the  occurrence,  signified  his  intention  to 
.iccompany  the  guard  when  they  relieved  the  sentinel 
they  had  left.  At  the  appointed  time,  they  all  marched 
together;  and  again,  to  their  unutterable  wonder,  they 
found  the  post  vacant,  and  the  man  gone. 

5.  Under  these    circumstances,   the   colonel   hesitated 

7 


74  THE    FIFTH    READER. 

whether  he  should  station  a  whole  company^  on  the  spot, 
or  whether  he  should  again  submit  the  post  to  a  single 
sentinel.  The  cause  of  these  repeated  disappearances  of 
men  whose  courage  and  honesty  weie  never  suspected, 
must  be  discovered;  and  it  seemed  not  likely  that  this 
discovery  could  be  obtained  by  persisting  in  tlie  old 
method. 

G.  Three  brave  men  were  now  lost  to  the  regiment,  and 
to  assign  the  post  to  a  fourth  seemed  nothing  less  than 
giving  him  up  to  destruction.  The  poor  fellow  who§e 
turn  it  was  to  take  the  station,  though  a  man  in  other 
respects  of  incomparable^  resolution,  trembled  from  head 
to  foot. 

7.  "I  must  do  my  duty,"  said  he  to  the  officer  ;  "I  know 
that;  but  I  should  like  to  lose  my  life  with  more  credit." 
"I  will  leave  no  man,"  said  the  colonel,  "against  his  will." 
A  man  immediately  stepped  from  the  ranks,  and  desired  to 
take  the  post.     Every  mouth  commended  his  resolution. 

8.  "I  will  not  be  taken  alive,"  said  he,  "and  you  shall 
hear  of  me  at  the  least  alarm.  At  all  events,  I  will  fire 
my  piece  if  I  hear  the  least  noise.  If  a  crow  chatters,  or 
a  leaf  falls,  you  sh;ill  hear  my  musket.  You  may  be 
alarmed  when  nothing  is  the  matter;  but  you  must  take 
the  chance  as  the  condition  of  the  discovery." 

9.  Tiie  colonel  applauded  his  courage,  and  told  him 
lie  would  do  right  to  fire  npon  the  least  noise  that  he 
could  not  satisfactorily  explain.  Ilis  comrades  shook 
hands  with  him,  and  left  him  with  a  melancholy  foreboding. 
The  company  marched  back,  and  waited  the  event  in  the 
guard-house. 

10.  An  hour  had  now  elapsed,  and  every  ear  was  upon 
the  rack  for  the  discharge  of  the  musket,  when,  upon  a 
sudden,  the  report  was  heard.  The  guard  immediately 
marched,  accompanied,  as  before,  by  the  colonel  and  some 
of  the  most  experienced  officers  of  the  regiment. 


THE    FIFTH   READER.  76 

11.  As  they  approached  the  post,  they  saw  the  man 
advancing  towards  them,  dragging  another  man  on  the 
ground  by  the  hair  of  his  head.  When  thCy  came  up  to 
hnn,  it  appeared  to  be  an  Indian  whom  he  had  shot.  An 
exphination  was  immediately  required. 

12.  "  I  told  you,  colonel,"  said  the  man,  "  that  I  should 
fire  if  I  heard  the  least  noise.  That  resolution  I  took  has 
saved  my  life.  I  had  not  been  long  at  my  post  when  I 
heard  a  rustling  at  some  short  distance;  I  looked,  and  saw 
a  wild  hog,  such  as  are  common  in  the  woods,  crawling 
along  the  ground,  and  seemingly  looking  for  nuts  under 
the  trees,  among  the  leaves. 

13.  "As  these  animals  are  so  very  common,  I  ceased  to 
consider  it  seriously,  but  kept  my  eyes  fixed  upon  it,  and 
marked  its  progress  among  the  trees :  still  there  was  no 
need  to  give  the  alarm.  It  struck  me,  however,  as  some- 
what singular  to  see  this  animal  making,  by  a  circuitous  ^^ 
passage,  for  a  thick  grove  immediately  behind  my  post. 
I  therefore  kept  my  eye  more  constantly  fixed  upon  it,  and, 
as  it  was  now  within  a  few  yards  of  the  co23i:)ice  ",  I  hesi- 
tated whether  I  should  fire. 

14.  "My  comrades,  thought  I,  will  laugh  at  me  for 
alarming  them  by  shooting  a  pig.  I  had  almost  resolved 
to  let  it  alone,  when,  just  as  it  approached  the  thicket,  I 
thought  I  observed  it  give  an  unusual  spring.  I  no  longer 
hesitated  :  I  took  my  aim,  discharged  my  piece,  and  the 
animal  was  immediately  stretched  before  me,  with  a  groan 
which  I  thought  to  be  that  of  a  human  creature. 

15.  "  I  went  up  to  it,  and  judge  my  astonishment  when 
I  found  that  I  had  killed  an  Indian.  He  had  enveloped 
himself  with  the  skin  of  one  of  these  wild  hogs  so  artfully 
and  completely,  his  hands  and  his  feet  were  so  entirely 
concealed  in  it,  and  his  gait  and  appearance  were  so 
exactly  correspondent  to  that  of  the  animals,  that,  imper- 
fectly as  they  were  always  seen  through  the  trees  and 


76 


THE   FIFTH    READER. 


buslieg,  the  disguise  could  not  be  detected  at  a  distance, 
and  scarcely  discovered  upon  the  nearest  inspection.  He 
was  armed  with  a  dagger  and  tomahawk 'V 

16.  The  cause  of  the  disappearance  of  the  other  senti- 
nels was  now  apparent.  The  Indians,  sheltered  in  this 
disguise,  secreted  themselves  in  the  coppice,  watched  for 
the  moment  to  throw  off  the  skin,  burst  upon  the  sen- 
tinels without  previous  alarm,  and,  too  quick  to  give  them 
an  opportunity  to  discharge  their  pieces,  either  stabbed  or 
scalped  them.  They  then  bore  their  bodies  away,  and 
concealed  them  at  some  distance  in  the  leaves. 


1  R£9'i-mEnt.  a  body  of  troops  com- 
ipanded  by  a  colonel,  and  consist- 
ing, when  full,  of  from  eight  hun- 
dred to  twenty- four  hundred  men. 

»  C6N'FiNE§.    Borders,  edges. 

8  Sa  vXn'na,    a  low,  open  phiin. 

4  S£n't|-?jEl.  a  soldier  set  to  watch 
the  approach  of  the  enemy,  to  pre- 
vent surprises,  &c. 

6  Post.  A  place  where  a  soldier  or  a 
number  of  troops  are  stationed  j  a 
station. 

•  Sfi-p?R-STl"TiQN.  Excess  of  scruple 
in  matters  of  religion  ;  a  belief  in 
the  direct  agency  of  supernatural 


power  in  producing  results  the 
causes  of  which  are  unknown. 

T  Colonel  (kiir'nel).  Thechiof  com- 
mander of  a  regiment. 

8  CSm'Pj^nv.  a  subdivision  of  a  regi- 
ment commanded  by  a  captain,  aud 
consisting,  when  full,  of  near  one 
hundred  men. 

«  In-c6m'pa-ua-ble.  Unequalled; 
matchless. 

10  CiR-cu'j-ToC3.      Roundabout;   not 

direct. 

11  Cdp'pjCE.    A  wood  of  small  trees  ; 

a  copse. 

12  T6m'a-hAwk.    An  Indian  hatchet. 


VIL— THE  LOSS  OP  THE  KOYAL  GEORGE. 

COAVPER. 

[William  Cowper,  an  English  poet,  was  born  in  1731,  and  died  in  1800.  His 
poetry  is  written  in  a  vigorous  and  manly  style,  and  has  an  energetic  moral 
tone.  It  abounds  in  charming  pictures  of  natural  scenery  and  domestic  life. 
His  smaller  pieces  enjoy  great  and  deserved  popularity. 

Few  events  have  ever  fallen  with  more  startling  sorrow  upon  the  public 
mind  of  Great  Britain  than  the  loss  of  the  Koyal  George,  in  the  month  of 
Aug  jst,  1782,  while  lying  at  anchor  oflF  Spithead,  near  Portsmouth.  She  car- 
ried one  hundred  and  eight  guns,  was  commanded  by  Admiral  Kempenfolt,  and 
Was  deemed  the  finest  ship  in  the  British  navy.  Being  just  ready  to  go  to  sea. 
ehe  was  inclined  a  little  on  one  side,  either  to  stop  a  leak  or  for  some  similar 
object.    But  so  little  risk  was  anticipated  from  the  operation,  that  the  admiral 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  77 

with  his  officers  and  men,  nearly  a  thousand  souls  In  all,  remained  on  board. 
Besides  those,  the  ship  was  crowded  with  persons  from  the  shore ;  among 
whom  were  some  three  hundred  women  and  children.  In  this  state  of  tliiuj^s, 
the  vessel  was  struck  by  a  sudden  flaw  of  wind.,  and  being  probably  too  much 
inclined,  she  was  thrown  farther  over :  the  water  lushed  into  her  portholes  j 
slie  filled  instantly,  and  sunk.  About  three  hundred  persons  were  saved,  but 
not  less  than  a  thousand  perished.  The  effect  of  so  fearful  a  tragedy  may  be 
more  fully  apprehended  when  we  bear  in  mind  that  the  whole  iiritish  loss  in 
the  great  naval  battle  of  Trafalgar,  fought  a  lew  years  after,  —  in  its  conse- 
quences the  most  important  naval  battle  of  modern  times,  — was  less  than 
seveuteen  hundred.] 

1.  Toll  for  the  brave, 

The  brave  tliat  are  no  more; 
All  sunk  beneath  the  wave, 
Fast  by  *  their  native  shore. 

2.  Eight  hundred  of  the  brave, 

Whose  courage  well  was  tried, 
Had  made  the  vessel  heeP, 
And  laid  her  on  her  side. 

*.3.  A  land  breeze  shook  the  shrouds', 
And  she  was  overset : 
Down  went  the  Royal  George, 
With  all  her  crew  complete. 

4.   Toll  for  the  brave ; 

Brave  Kempenfelt  is  gone; 
His  last  sea  fight  is  fought ; 
His  work  of  glory  done. 

6.   It  was  not  in  the  battle ; 

No  tempest  gave  the  shock; 
She  sprang  no  fatal  leak ; 
She  ran  upon  no  rock. 

6.  His  sword  was  in  its  sheath, 
His  fingers  held  the  pen. 
When  Kempenfelt  went  down. 
With  twice  four  hundred  men. 
7* 


78 


THE    FIFTH   READER. 


7.  Weigh  "*  tlie  vessel  up, 

Once  dreaded  by  our  foes ; 
And  mingle  with  our  cup 
The  tear  that  England  owes. 

8.  Her  timbers  yet  are  sound, 

And  she  may  float  again, 
Full  charged  with  England's  thunder, 
And  plough  the  distant  main\ 

9.  But  Kenipenfelt  is  gone  ; 

His  victories  are  o'er ; 
And  he  and  his  eight  hundred 
Shall  plough  the  waves  no  more. 


1  FXsT  Bi?,    Kear  to ;  close  by. 

a  Uekl.    Lean  or  incline  to  one  side, 

as  a  ship. 
»  SHRoODf.    A  set  of  ropes  reaching 


from  the  mast-head  to  the  veosel's 
sides,  to  support  the  mast,  &c. 

*  Weigh  (wa).    Lift,  raise. 

5  AlAiN.    The  open  sea ;  the  ocean. 


VIII.— THE  SUNBEAM. 


Mrs.  Hemans. 

[Felicia  Dorothea  Hemans  was  bom  in  Liverpool,  England,  September  25, 
179-1,  and  died  May  12,  1&35.  Her  poetry  is  remarkable  for  purity  and  delicacy 
of  feeling,  and  a  fine  sense  of  the  beauty  of  nature.] 

1.  Thou  art  no  lingerer  in  monarch's  ^  hall : 
A  joy  thou  art.  and  a  wealth  to  all ; 

A  bearer  of  hope  unto  land  and  sea : 
Sunbeam,  what  gift  hath  the  world  like  thee  ? 

2,  Thou  art  walking  the  billows,  and  ocean  smiles ; 
Thou  hast  touched  with  glory  his  thousand  isles; 
Thou  hast  lit  up  the  ships,  and  the  feathery  foam, 
And  gladdened  the  sailor  like  words  from  home. 


THE   FIFTH    READER. 


79 


3.  To  tlie  solemn  depths  of  the  forest  shades 

Thou  art  sti-eaming  on  through  their  green  arcades', 
And  the  quivering  leaves  that  have  caught  thy  glow, 
Like  fireflies  glance  to  the  pools  below. 

4.  I  looked  on  the  mountains:  a  vapor  lay- 
Folding  their  heights  in  its  dark  array ; 
Thou  brakest  forth,  and  the  mist  became 
A  crown  and  a  mantle  of  living  flame. 

5.  I  looked  on  the  peasant's^  lowly  cot: 
Something  of  sadness  had  wrapped  the  spot; 
But  a  gleam  of  thee  on  its  casement  "*  fell, 
And  it  laughed  into  beauty  at  that  bright  speU. 

6.  Sunbeam  of  summer,  O,  what  is  like  thee, 
Hope  of  the  wilderness,  joy  of  the  sea? 
One  thing  is  like  thee,  to  mortals^  given  — 

The  faith  touchins^  all  thinGjs  with  hues^  of  heaven. 


1  M6n'ar£;h.  a  rulor  of  a  nation, 
who  has  sole  autliority ;  a  sover- 
eign ;  a  king-. 

s  ^r-cade'.  a  ■v^^alk  arched  above; 
an  arched  aperture ;  a  space  cov- 
ered by  an  arch. 


3  P£a§'ant.  a  laborer  in  Europe  who 
lives  in  the  country. 

i  Caije'ment.  a  part  of  a  window- 
sash,  opening  upon  hinges. 

5  MiJR'TALij.    Human  beings. 

6  IIuE§.    Colors;  tints. 


IX.  — MEMORIALS   OF  WASHINGTON  AND 
FRANKLIN. 


[The  following  deeply  interesting  proceedings  took  place  in  the  House  of 
Representatives  at  Washington,  on  the  7th  day  of  February,  1848.  Mr.  George 
W.  Summers,  of  Virginia,  rose  and  addressed  the  house  as  follows.] 

1.  Mr.  Speaker  :  I  rise  for  the  purpose  of  discharging 
an  oflice  not  connected  with  the  ordinary  business  of  a 
legislative  *  assembly.    Yet,  in  asking  permission  to  inter- 


bO  THE    FIFTH   READER.     * 

rupt,  for  a  moment,  the  regular  order  of  parliamentary- 
proceedings,  I  cannot  doubt  that  the  proposition  which  I 
have  to  submit  will   prove   as   gratifying   as  it  may  be 
unusual. 

2.  Mr.  Samuel  T.  Washington,  a  citizen  of  Kanawha* 
county,  in  the  Commonwealth  of  Virginia,  and  one  of  my 
constituents^,  has  honored  me  with  the  commission  of  pre- 
senting, in  his  name  and  on  his  behalf,  to  the  Congress  of 
the  United  States,  and  through  that  body  to  the  people 
of  the  United  States,  two  most  interesting  and  valuable 
relics,  connected  with  the  past  history  of  our  country,  and 
Avith  men  whose  achievements",  both  in  the  field  and  in 
the  cabinet*,  best  illustrate  and  adorn  our  annals. 

3.  One  is  the  sword  worn  by  George  Washington,  first 
as  a  colonel  in  the  colonial  service  of  Virginia,  in  Forbes's 
campaign  against  the  French  and  Indians,  and  afterwards, 
during  the  whole  period  of  the  war  of  independence,  as 
commander-in-chief  of  the  American  army. 

4.  It  is  a  plain  couteau,t  or  hanger,  with  a  green  hilt 
and  silver  guard.  On  the  upper  ward  of  the  scabbard  is 
engraven  "J.  Bailey,  Fish  Kill."  It  is  accompanied  by  a 
buckskin  belt,  which  is  secured  by  a  silver  buckle  and 
clasp,  whereon  are  engraven  the  letters  "  G.  W."  and  the 
figures  "  1757."  These  are  all  of  the  plainest  workman- 
ship, but  substantial,  and  in  keeping  wnth  the  man  and 
wi^h  the  times  to  which  they  belonged. 

5.  The  history  of  this  sword  is  perfectly  authentic^,  and 
leaves  no  shadow  of  doubt  as  to  its  identity.  The  last 
will  and  testament  of  General  Washington,  bearing  date 
on  the  9th  day  of  February,  1799,  contains,  among  a  great 
variety  of  bequests,  the  following  clause:  "To  each  of  my 
nephews,  William  Augustine  Washington,  George  Lewis, 
George  Steptoe  Washington,  Bushrod  Washington,  and 
Samuel  Washington,  I  give  one  of  the  swords,  or  cou- 

*  Pronounced  kj-naw'wj.  1  Pronounced  k6-t5'. 


THE    FIFTH    READER.  81 

teaux,  of  which  I  may  die  possessed;  and  they  are  to 
choose  in  the  order  they  are  named.  These  swords  are 
accompanied  with  an  injunctidn  not  to  unsheathe'  them 
for  the  purpose  of  shedding  blood,  except  it  be  for  self- 
defence,  or  in  defence  of  their  country  and  its  rights;  and, 
in  the  latter  case,  to  keep  them  unsheathed,  and  prefer 
falling  with  them  in  their  hands  to  the  relinquishment 
thereof." 

6.  In  the  distribution  of  the  swords  hereby  devised* 
among  the  five  nephews  therein  enumerated,  the  one  now 
presented  fell  to  the  share  of  Samuel  Washington,  the 
devisee  ^  last  named  in  the  clause  of  the  will  which  I  have 
just  read. 

7.  This  gentleman,  who  died  a  few  years  since  in  the 
county  of  Kanawha,  and  who  was  the  father  of  Samuel 
T.  Washington,  the  donor,  I  knew  well.  I  have  often 
seen  this  sword  in  his  possession,  and  received  fi'om  him- 
self the  following  account  of  the  manner  in  which  it  became 
his  property  in  the  division  made  among  the  devisees:  — 

8.  He  said  that  he  knew  it  to  have  been  the  side  arm  of 
General  Washington  during  the  revolutionary  war ;  not 
that  used  on  occasions  of  parade  and  review,  but  the  con- 
stant service  sword  of  the  great  chief;  that  he  had  himself 
seen  General  Washington  wear  this  identical  sword,  he 
presumed  for  the  last  time,  when,  in  1794,  he  reviewed  the 
Virginia  and  Maryland  forces,  then  concentrated  at  Cum- 
berland under  the  command  of  General  Lee,  and  destined 
to  cooperate  with  the  Pennsylvania  and  New  Jersey 
troops  then  assembled  at  Bedford,  in  suppressing  what 
has  been  called  the  "whiskey  insurrection." 

9.  General  Washington  was  then  president  of  the  Uni- 
ted States,  and  as  such  was  commander-in-chief  of  the 
army.  It  is  known  that  it  was  his  intention  to  lead  the 
army  in  person  upon  that  occasion,  had  he  found  it  neces- 
sary; and  he  went  to  Bedford  and  Cumberland  prepared 


82  THE    FIFTH   READER. 

for  that  event.     The  condition  of  things  did  not  require 
it,  and  he  returned  to  his  civil  duties  at  Philadelphia. 

10.  Mr.  Samuel  Washington  held  the  commission  of  a 
captain  at  that  time  himself,  and  served  in  that  campaign, 
many  of  the  incidents  of  which  he  has  related  to  me. 

11.  He  was  anxious  to  obtain  this  particular  sword,  and 
preferred  it  to  all  the  otliers,  among  which  was  the  orna- 
mented and  costly  present  from  the  great  Frederic* 

12.  At  the  time  of  the  division  among  the  nephews, 
without  intimating  what  his  preference  was,  he  jocosely 
remarked,  that  "inasmuch  as  he  was  the  only  one  of  them 
who  had  participated  in  military  service,  they  ought  to 
permit  him  to  take  choice."  This  suggestion  was  met  in 
the  same  spirit  in  which  it  was  made,  and  the  selection 
being  awarded  him,  he  chose  this,  the  plainest,  and,  intrin- 
sically '°,  the  least  valuable  of  any,  simply  because  it  was 
the  «  battle  sword." 

13.  I  am  also  in  possession  of  the  most  satisfactory 
evidence,  furnished  by  Colonel  George  Washington,  of 
Georgetown,  the  nearest  male  relative,  now  living,  of 
General  Washington,  as  to  the  identity  of  this  sword.  His 
information,  as  to  its  history,  was  derived  from  his  father, 
William  Augustine  Washington,  the  devisee  first  named 
in  the  clause  of  the  will  which  I  have  read  ;  from  his  uncle, 
the  late  Judge  Bushrod  Washington,  of  the  Supreme 
Court;  and  Major  Lawrence  Lewis,  the  acting  executor" 
of  General  Washington's  will ;  all  of  whom  concurred  in 
the  statement  that  the  true  service  sword  was  that  selected 
by  Captain  Samuel  Washington. 

14.  It  remained  in  this  gentleman's  possession  until  his 
death,  esteemed  by  him  the  most  precious  memento  of  his 
illustrious  kinsman.  It  then  became  the  property  of  his 
son,  who,  animated  by  that  patriotism  which  so  character- 

*  Frederic  II.,  king  of  Prussia,  a  most  skilful  general,  was  born  in  1712  and 
died  in  1786. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  03 

ized  the  "  Father  of  his  Country,"  has  consented  that  such  a 
relic  ought  not  to  be  appropriated  by  an  individual  citizen, 
and  has  instructed  me,  his  representative,  to  offer  it  to  the 
nation,  to  be  preserved  in  its  public  depository  as  the 
common  property  of  all,  since  its  office  has  been  to  achieve 
and  secure  the  common  liberty  of  all. 

15.  He  has,  in  like  manner,  requested  me  to  present 
this  cane  to  the  Congress  of  the  United  States,  deeming 
it  not  unAvorthy  the  public  acceptance. 

16.  This  was  once  the  property  of  the  philosopher  *^  and 
patriot  Benjamin  Franklin. 

17.  By  a  codicil  *^  to  his  last  will  and  testament,  we  find 
it  thus  disposed  of:  "My  fine  crab-tree  walking  stick,  with 
a  gold  head  curiously  wrought  in  the  form  of  the  cap  of 
Liberty,  I  give  to  my  friend,  and  the  friend  of  mankind, 
General  Washington.  If  it  were  a  sceptre  '\  he  has  mer- 
ited it,  and  would  become  it." 

18.  General  Washington,  in  his  will,  devises  this  cane 
as  follows :  "  Item  :  To  my  brother,  Charles  Washington, 
I  give  and  bequeath  the  gold-headed  cane  left  me  by  Dr 
Franklin  in  his  will." 

19.  Captain  Samuel  Washington  was  the  only  son  of 
Charles  Washington,  the  devisee  from  whom  he  derived 
by  inheritance  this  interesting  memorial ;  and  having  trans- 
mitted it  to  his  son,  Samuel  T.  Washington,  the  latter  thus 
seeks  to  bestow  it  worthily,  by  associating  it  with  tho 
battle  sword  in  a  gift  to  his  countrymen. 

20.  I  cordially  concur  with  Mr.  Washington  in  the 
opinion  that  they  both  merit  public  preservation ;  and  I 
obey,  with  pleasure,  his  wishes  in  here  presenting  them, 
\x\  his  name,  to  the  nation. 

21.  Let  the  sword  of  the  hero  and  the  staff  of  the  phi- 
losopher go  together.  Let  them  have  place  among  the 
proudest  trophies  and  most  honored  memorials  of  our 
national  achievements. 


84 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


22.  Upon  that  staff  once  leaned  the  sage,  of  whom  it 
has  been  said,  "  He  snatched  the  lightning  from  heaven 
and  the  sceptre  from  tyrants." 

23.  A  mighty  arm  once  wielded  this  sword  in  a  right- 
eous cause,  even  unto  the  dismemberment  of  empire.  In 
the  hand  of  Washington  this  was  "the  sword  of  the  Lord 
and  of  Gideon." 

24.  It  was  never  drawn  except  in  the  defence  of  public 
liberty;  it  was  never  sheathed  until  a  glorious  and  trium- 
phant success  returned  it  to  the  scabbard,  without  a  stain 
of  cruelty  or  dishonor  upon  its  blade ;  it  was  never  sur- 
rendered except  to  that  country  which  bestowed  it. 


1  Lfe^'fs  LA-TJVE.  That  enacts  laws; 
law-makin<?. 

t  PAR-L!A-M£NT'A-Ry.  Oforppftain- 
ing  to  parliament,  or  a  legislative 
body, 

8  CpN-STTT'v-ENTS.  Those  who  ap- 
point or  elect  some  one  to  an  office 
as  their  representative. 

«  J^-CHIEVE'MENTS.   Deeds  :  exploits. 

6  CXb'|-n£t.    The  body  of  ministers 

of  state  who   direct  the  govern- 
ment of  a  nation. 
•  Au'thEn'tic,      Properly    attested; 
being  what  it  purports  to  be. 

7  "Dn-sheathe'.       Draw    from     the 

Bheatb. 


8  D?-vTsed'.    Granted  by  will;   be- 

queathed. 

9  D£v-i-§EE'.    One   to   whom   a   bo- 

quest  has  been  made. 

10  jN-TRlN's}-CAL-Ly.    In  its  nature; 

really. 

11  ?:f  fic'v-TpR.  The  person  appointed 

to  execute  a  will,  or  see  it  carried 
into  effect. 

12  Phj-lSs'q  piiER.      A   person   pro- 

foundly versed  in  knowledge. 

13  C6d'i-cIl.    a   writing  added  to  a 

will. 
1*  Scfip'TRE.    A    staff  borne    in   the 
hands  of  kings  as  an  emblem  of 
their  power. 


X.  — MEMOHTALS   OF  WASHINGTON  AND 
FRANKLIN,  CONCLUDED. 


[Mr.  John  Quincy  Adams,  of  Massachusetts,  rose  and  addressed  the  House 
as  follows.] 

1.  In  presenting  this  resolution  to  the  house,  it  may 
perhaps  be  expected  that  I  should  accompany  it  with  some 
suitable  remarks ;  and  yet,  sir,  I  never  rose  to  address  this 


THE    FIFTH   READER.  85 

house  under  a  deeper  conviction  of  the  want  of  words  to 
express  the  emotions  that  I  feel.  It  is  precisely  because 
occasions  like  this  are  adapted  to  produce  universal  sym- 
pathy, that  little  can  be  said  by  any  one,  but  what,  in  the 
language  of  the  heart,  in  tones  not  loud,  but  deep,  every 
one  present  has  silently  said  to  himself. 

2.  My  respected  Iriend  from  Virginia,  by  whom  this 
offering  of  patriotic  sentiment  has  been  presented  to  the 
representative  assembly  of  the  nation,  has,  it  seems  to  me, 
already  said  all  that  can  be  said  suitable  to  this  occasion. 
In  parting  from  him,  as,  after  a  few  short  days,  we  must 
all  do,  it  will,  on  my  part,  be,  sorrowing  that,  in  all  proba- 
bility, I  shall  see  his  face  and  hear  his  voice  no  more. 
But  his  words  of  this  day  are  planted  in  my  memory,  and 
will  there  remain  till  the  last  pulsation  of  my  heart. 

3.  The  sword  of  Washington  !  The  staff  of  Fkanklin  I 
O,  sir,  what  associations  are  linked  in  adamant  ^  with  those 
names!  Washington,  the  warrior  of  human  freedom  — 
Washington,  whose  sword,  as  my  friend  has  said,  was 
never  drawn  but  in  the  cause  of  his  country,  and  never 
sheathed  when  w^ielded  in  his  country's  cause!  Franklin, 
the  philosopher  of  the  thunderbolt,  the  printing  press,  and 
the  ploughshare!  What  names  are  these  in  the  scanty 
catalogue  of  the  benefactors  of  human  kind!  Washington 
and  Franklin  I  What  other  two  men,  whose  lives  belong 
to  the  eighteenth  century  of  Christendom,*  have  left  a 
deeper  impression  of  themselves  upon  the  age  in  which 
they  lived,  and  upon  all  after  time  ! 

4.  Washington  !  the  warrior  and  the  legislator  ;  in  war, 
contending  by  the  wager  of  battle  for  the  independence 
of  his  country,  and  for  the  freedom  of  the  human  race; 
ever  manifesting,  amidst  its  horrors,  by  precept  and  ex- 
ample, his  reverence  for  the  laws  of  peace,  and  for  the 

*  CHRiSTp:Nr)OM.    The  regions  inhabited  by  ChriHtians  j  all  countries  governed 
by  Christian  institutions. 

8 


86  THE   FIFTH  READER. 

tenderest  sympathies  of  humanity ;  in  peace,  soothing  the 
ferocious  spirit  of  discord,  among  his  own  countrymen, 
into  harmony  and  union,  and  giving  to  that  very  sword 
now  presented  to  his  country  a  charm  more  potent  thau 
that  attributed  in  ancient  times  to  the  lyre  of  Orpheus.* 

5.  FrankHn !  the  mechanic  of  his  own  fortune,  teach- 
ing, in  early  youth,  under  the  shackles  of  indigence,  the 
way  to  wealth,  and  in  the  shade  of  obscurity,  the  path  to 
greatness ;  in  the  maturity  of  manhood,  disarming  the 
thunder  of  its  terrors,  the  lightning  of  its  fatal  blast,  and 
wresting  from  the  tyrant's  hand  the  still  more  afflictive 
sceptre  of  oppression ;  while  descending  into  the  vale  of 
yeai-s,  traversing  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  braving  in  the  dead 
of  winter  the  battle  and  the  breeze,  bearing  in  his  hand 
the  charter  of  independence,  which  he  had  contributed  to 
form,  and  tendering,  from  the  self-created  nation  to  the 
mightiest  monarchs  of  Europe,  the  olive  branch  of  peace, 
the  mercurial'  wand  of  commerce,  and  the  amulet^  of 
protection  and  safety,  to  the  man  of  peace  on  the  pathless 
ocean,  from  the  inexorable  cruelty  and  merciless  rapacity 
of  war. 

6.  And  finally,  in  the  last  stage  of  life,  with  fourscore 
wintei*s  upon  his  head,  under  the  torture  of  an  incurable 
disease,  returning  to  his  native  la^nd,  closing  his  days  as 
the  chief  magistrate  of  his  adopted  commonwealth,  after 
contributing*  by  his  counsels,  under  the  presidency  of 
Washington,  and  recording  his  name,  under  the  sanction 
of  devout  prayer  invoked  by  him  to  God,  to  that  constitu- 
tion under  the  authority  of  which  we  are  here  assembled, 
as  the  representatives  of  the  North  American  people,  to 
receive  in  their  name,  and  for  them,  these  venerable  relics 
of  the  w4se,  the  valiant,  and  the  good  founders  of  our 
great  confederated  °  republic — these  sacred  symbols^  of  our 
golden  age. 

*  Orpheus  ('dr'fus).    An  ancient  Grecian  poet,  who  is  fabled  to  have  enchanted, 
■with  the  music  of  his  lyre,  not  only  wild  beasts,  but  even  trees  and  rocks. 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


8T 


7.  May  they  be  deposited  among  the  archives''  of  on! 
government;  and  may  every  American  who  shall  here- 
after behold  them  ejaculate  a  mingled  offering  of  praise  to 
that  Supreme  liuler  of  the  universe  by  whose  tender 
mercies  our  Union  has  been  hitherto  preserved  through 
all  the  vicissitudes  ^  and  revolutions  of  this  turbulent  world, 
and  of  prayer  for  the  continuance  of  the  blessings,  by  the 
dispensations  of  his  providence,  to  our  beloved  country, 
from  age  to  age,  till  time  shall  be  no  more. 

8.  After  passing  an  appropriate  resolution,  accepting 
Mr.  Washington's  gift,  and  tendering  him  the  thanks  of 
Congress  therefor,  the  house  adjourned  ^ 


1  Ad'a-mAnt.   a  very  hard  stone. 

2  M¥»-cu'  Ri-AL.    Pertaining  to  trade, 

or  to  Mercury,  the  fabled  god  of 

commerce,  &c. 
8  Am'v-l£t.    Something  worn  about 

the  person  and  supposed  to  have 

the  elTect  of  protecting  tlie  wearer 

from  evil. 
*  C9n-tkIb'vt-In&.    Affording  aid. 


5  Con-f£d'er-at-?d.      United    in   a 

lengue ;  allied. 

6  SVm'bql..    Type;  emblem;  sign. 

7  AR'jenivE§.      The  place  where  pub 

lie  records  are  kept. 

8  Vi-cis'si-tOde§.      Changes  ;   muta. 

tions. 

9  Ad-joUkned'.    Put  off  business  foj 

a  time  or  till  another  day. 


I 


XL— .WILLIAM  TELL. 

Knowles. 

[Switzerland  was  once  under  the  power  of  Austria.  Gesler  (pronounced 
jSes'ler),  at  the  time  of  these  events,  in  1307,  was  the  Austrian  governor  of 
Switzerland.  He  was  a  most  cruel  tyrant,  and  even  pushed  his  tyranny  so  far 
as  to  require  the  Swiss  to  uncover  their  heads  and  bow  down  to  his  hat  placed 
upon  a  pole.  William  Tell,  a  brave  Swiss,  refused  to  perform  this  act  of  ser- 
vility. He  was  seized  for  punishment.  Tell's  son,  Albert,  without  his  fatlier'a 
knowledge,  had  been  taken  prisoner  on  the  preceding  day  by  Gesler.] 

Scene— A  Chamber  in  the  Castle.    Enter  Gesler,  Officers,  and  Sarnem, 
with  Tell  in  chams  and  guarded. 

Sarnem.    Down,  slave  !    Behold  the  governor. 
Down !  down !  and  beg  for  mercy. 
Gesler,    [Seated,]    Does  he  hear  ? 


L 


88  THE   FIFTH    READER. 

Sar.    He  does,  but  braves  thy  power. 

Offi,cer.    Why  don't  you  smite  him  for  that  look? 

Ges.    Can  I  believe 
My  eyes  ?  —  He  smiles  !  nay,  grasps 
His  chains  as  he  would*niake  a  weapon  of  them 
To  lay  the  smiter  dead.    [To  tell.] 
Why  speakest  thou  not? 

Tdl.    For  wonder. 

Ges.    Wonder! 

Tell.    Yes,  that  thou  should'st  seem  a  man. 

Ges.    What  should  I  seem  ? 

Tell.    A  monster !  * 

Ges.    Ha!    Beware  —  think  on  thy  chains. 

Tell.   Though  they  were  doubled,  and  did  weigh  me  down 
Prostrate  to  earth,  methinks  I  could  rise  up  — 
Erect,  with  nothing  but  the  honest  pride 
Of  telling  thee,  usurper ',  to  the  teeth, 
Thou  art  a  monster!    Think  upon  my  chains  1 
How  came  they  on  me  ? 

Ges.    Darest  thou  question  me  ?  . 

Tell.    Darest  thou  answer  ? 

Ges.    Do  I  hear  ? 

Tdl    Thou  dost. 

Ges.    Beware  my  vengeance. 

Tell.    Can  it  more  than  kill  ? 

Ges.    Enough  —  it  can  do  that. 

Tell.    No,  not  enough : 
It  cannot  take  away  the  grace  of  life  — 
Its  comeliness''  of  look  that  virtue  gives  — 
Its  port  erect  with  consciousness^  of  truth  — 
Its  rich  attire  of  honorable  deeds  — 
Its  fair  report  that's  rife  on  good  men's  tongues; 
It  cannot  lay  its  hands  on  these,  no  more 
Than  it  can  pluck  the  brightness  from  the  sun, 
Or  with  polluted  finger  tarnish  it. 

Ges.    But  it  can  make  thee  writhe. 


THE   FIFTH  READER. 

Tell    It  may. 

Ges,    And  groan. 

TelL    It  may ;  and  I  may  cry, 
Go  on,  though  it  should  make  me  groan  again. 

Ges.    Whence  comest  thou  ? 

TeU.    From  the  mountains.    Would'st  thou  learn 
What  news  from  them  ? 

Ges,    Canst  tell  me  any  ? 

Tdl.    Ay ;  they  *  watch  no  more  the  avalanche  *. 

Ges,    Why  so? 

Tell.    Because  they  look  for  thee.     The  hurricane 
Comes  unawares  upon  them ;  from  its  bed 
The  torrent  breaks,  and  finds  them  in  its  track  — 

Ges.    What  do  they  then  ? 

Tdl.    Thank  Heaven  it  is  not  thou ! 
Thou  hast  perverted  nature  in  them. 
There's  not  a  blessing  Heaven  vouchsafes'  them,  but 
The  thought  of  thee  doth  wither  to  a  curse. 

Ges.    That's  right !    I'd  have  them  like  their  hills, 
That  never  smile,  though  wanton  summer  tempt 
Them  e'er  so  much. 

Tell.    But  they  do  sometimes  smile. 

Ges.    Ay  ?  —  when  is  that  ? 

Tell.    When  they  do  talk  of  vengeance  •. 

Ges.    Vengeance !    Dare  they  talk  of  tha  ? 

Tell.    Ay,  and  expect  it  too. 

Ges.    From  whence  ? 

Tell.    From  Heaven ! 

Ges.    From  Heaven? 

Tell.    And  their  true  hands 
Are  lifted  up  to  it  on  every  hill 
For  justice  on  thee. 

Ges.    Where's  thy  abode? 
Wk      Tell.    1  told  thee  —  on  the  mountains. 

^m  *  The  mountaineers. 


90  THE  FIFTH  EEADER. 

Oes.  Art  married  ? 

Tell  Yes. 

Ges.  And  hast  a  family  ? 

jTeZ^.  A  son. 

G^e5.  A  son !    Sam  em ! 

Sar,  My  lord,  the  boy. 
[Gesler  signs  to  Sarnem  to  keep  silence,  and,  whispering,  Bends  him  oH 

Tell.    The  boy!     What  boy? 
Is't  mine  ?  —  and  have  they  netted  ray  young  fledgling'? 
Kow  Heaven  support  me,  if  they  have !    He'll  own  me, 
And  share  his  father's  ruin  !    But  a  look 
Would  put  him  on  his  guard  —  yet  how  to  give  it ! 
Now,  heart,  thy  nerve  ;  forget  thou  art  flesh ;  be  rock. 
They  come  —  they  come ! 
That  step  —  that  step  —  that  little  step,  so  light 
Upon  the  ground,  how  heavy  does  it  fall 
(Jpon  my  heart !    I  feel  my  child !  — 

Alter  Sarnem  with  Albert,  whose  eyes  are  riveted  on  Tell's  bow  whieli 
Sarnem  carries. 

Tis  he !  —  We  can  but  perish. 

Sar,    See ! 

Albert,    What? 

Sar,    Look  there ! 

Alh.    I  dp.    What  would  you  have  me  see  ? 

Sar,    Thy  father. 

Alh,    Wh«.?    That  — that  my  father? 

Tell,  [Aside.]  My  boy  —  my  boy !  —  my  own  brave  boy 
He's  safe ! 

Sar,    [Aside  to  GEgi,ER.]    They're  like  each  other. 

Ges,     Yet  I  see  no  sign 
Of  recognition®  to  betray  the  link 
(Jnites  a  father  and  his  child. 

Sar.    My  lord, 
I  am  sure  it  is  his  father.    Look  at  them. 
It  may  be 

A  preconcerted'  thing  'gainst  such  a  chance^ 
That  they  survey  each  other  coldly  thus. 


k 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  91 

Ges.    We  shall  try.    Lead  forth  the  caitiff*', 

Sar.    To  a  dungeon  ? 

Ges.    No ;  into  the  court. 

Sar.    The  court,  my  lord  ? 

Ges.    And  send 
To  tell  the  headsman  "  to  make  ready.     Quick ! 
The  slave  shall  die  !  —  You  marked  the  boy  ? 

Sar,    I  did.     He  started  —  'tis  his  father. 

Ges.    We  shall  see.    Away  with  him ! 

Tell.    Stop!  — Stay! 

Ges.    What  would  you  ? 

T'ell.    Time !  —  a  little  time  to  call  my  thoughts  together. 

Ges.    Thou  shalt  not  have  a  minute. 

Tell.    Some  one,  then,  to  speak  with. 

Ges.    Hence  with  him ! 

Tell.    A  moment !  —  Stop ! 
Let  me  speak  to  the  boy. 

Ges.    Is  he  thy  son  ? 

Tell.    And  if 
He  were,  art  thou  so  lost  to  nature  as 
To  send  me  forth  to  die  before  his  face? 

Ges.    Well,  speak  with  him. 
Now,  Sarnem,  mark  them  well. 

Tell.    Thou  dost  not  know  me,  boy  —  and  well  for  thee 
Thou  dost  not.     I'm  the  father  of  a  son 
About  thy  age.     Thou, 
I  see,  wast  born,  like  him,  upon  the  hills ; 
If  thou  shouldst  'scape  thy  present  thraldom,  he 
May  chance  to  cross  thee  ;  if  he  should,  I  pray  thee 
Relate  to  him  what  has  been  passing  here, 
And  say  I  laid  my  hand  upon  thy  head, 
And  said  to  thee,  —  if  he  were  here,  as  thou  art, 
Thus  would  I  bless  him.    May'st  thou  live  my  boy, 
To  see  thy  country  free,  or  die  for  her, 
As  I  do  !  [Albert  vreep* 

Sai\    Mark !   he  weeps. 


92  THE   FIFTH  READER. 

Tell.    Were  he  my  son, 
He  would  not  shed  a  tear.     He  would  remember 
The  cliff  where  he  was  bred,  and  learned  to  scan 
A  thousand  fathoms'  depth  of  nether''*  air ; 
Where  he  was  trained  to  hear  the  thunder  talk, 
And  meet  the  lightning  eye  to  eye ;  where  last 
We  spoke  together,  when  I  told  him  death 
Bestowed  the  brightest  gem  that  graces  life, 
Embraced  for  virtue's  sake.    He  shed  a  tear ! 
No  ;  were  he  by,  I'd  talk  to  him,  and  his  cheek 
Should  never  blanch,  nor  moisture  dim  his  eye, — 
I'd  talk  to  him  — 

Sar.    He  falters ! 

Tell.    'Tis  too  much! 
And  yet  it  must  be  done  !     I'd  talk  to  him  — 

Ges.    Of  what? 

Tell.    The  mother,  tyrant,  thou  dost  make 
A  widow  of.     I'd  talk  to  him  of  her. 
I'd  bid  him  tell  her,  next  to  liberty. 
Her  name  was  the  last  word  my  lips  pronounced. 
And  I  would  charge  him  never  to  forget 
To  love  and  cherish  her,  as  he  would  have 
His  father's  dying  blessing  rest  upon  him. 

Sar.    You  see,  as  he  doth  prompt,  the  other  acts. 

Tell.    [Aside]    So  well  he  bears  it,  he  doth  vanquish  me. 
My  boy  !  my  boy !    O,  for  the  hills,  the  hills  — 
To  see  him  bound  along  their  tops  again, 
With  liberty. 

Sar.    Was  there  not  all  the  father  in  that  look  ? 

Ges.    Yet  'tis  'gainst  nature. 

Sar.    Not  if  he  believes 
To  own  the  son  would  be  to  make  him  share 
The  father's  death. 

Ges.    I  did  not  think  of  that !     [To  tell.^    'Tie  weR 
The  boy  is  not  thy  son.    I've  destined  him 
To  die  alonff  with  thee. 


THE   FIFTH  READER. 


9b 


TeU.    To  die,?    For  what? 

Ges.    For  having  braved  my  power,  as  thou  hast.   Lead 
Them  forth. 

Tell.    He's  but  a  child. 

Ges.    Away  with  them  ! 

Tell.    Perhaps  an  only  child. 
'     Ges.    No  matter. 

Tell.    He  may  have  a  mother. 

Ges.    So  the  viper  hath ; 
And  yet,  who  spares  it  for  the  mother's  sake  ? 

7'ell.    I  talk  to  stone.    I  talk  to  it  as  though 
'Twere  flesh ;  and  know  'tis  none.    I'll  talk  to  it 
No  more.     Come,  my  boy ! 
I  taught  thee  how  to  live  —  I'll  show  thee  how  to  die. 

e  VEn^e'ance.     Punishment  in  re- 
taliation for  an  injury. 

7  FlEd^^'ling.    a  young  bird. 

8  R£c-pG-Ni"TiQN.    Act  of  kuowing 
again  ;  ap.knowledgment. 

9  PRfi-CQN-ciJRT'^D.     Arranged  be- 
forehand. 

10  Cai'tiff.    a  villain  ;  a  knave. 

11  Head^'man.    One  who  beheads. 

12  NfiTii'ER.    Lower. 


1  C-^iJRP'ER.    One  who  seizes  that  to 

which  he  has  no  right. 
s  CoME'Ll-Nfiss.     Grace  ;  beauty. 
»  C6n'sciovs-n£ss.     The  perception 

of  one's  own  thoughts  and  feelings. 
4  Av'A-i.AN9  HE .   A  vast  body  of  snow, 

ice,  or  earth  sliding  down  the  side 

of  a  mountain. 
6  VbOcH  safe'.    Condescend  to  grant 

or  permit. 


XII.  — THE  BELL   OF  THE  ATLANTIC. 

Mrs.  Lydia  H.  Sigourney. 

[Mrs.  Lydia  H.  Sigourney  was  an  American  lady,  who  wrote  a  variety  of 
works  in  prose  and  verse.  She  was  born  September  1,  1791,  and  died  June  10, 
1865.    She  resided  for  many  years  in  Hartford,  Connecticut. 

The  steamboat  Atlantic,  plying  between  Norwich,  in  Connecticut,  and  New 
York,  was  wrecked  on  an  island  near  New  London.  Many  of  the  passengers 
were  on  their  way  to  join  in  the  celebration  of  the  annual  Thanksgiving  in 
Kew  England,  The  bell  of  this  boat,  supported  by  a  portion  of  the  v/reck,  con- 
tiuued  for  many  days  and  nights  to  toll  as  if  in  mournful  requiem  of  the  lost.J 

1.  Toll,  toll,  toll, 

Thou  bell  by  billows  swung ; 
And,  night  and  day,  thy  warning  words 
Repeat  with  mournful  tongue ! 


94  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

Toll  for  the  queenly  boat, 

Wrecked  on  yon  rocky  shore! 

Sea-weed  is  in  her  palace  halls ; 
She  rides  the  surge  no  more. 

2.  Toll  for  the  master  bold, 

The  high-souled  and  the  brave. 
Who  ruled  her  like  a  thing  of  life 

Amid  the  crested  wave ! 
Toll  for  the  hardy  crew, 

Sons  of  the  storm  and  blast. 
Who  long  the  tyrant  ocean  dared; 

But  it  vanquished  them  at  last. 

3.  Toll  for  the  man  of  God, 

Whose  hallowed  voice  of  prayer 
Rose  calm  above  the  stifled  groan 

Of  that  intense  despair ! 
How  precious  were  those  tones 

On  that  sad  verge  of  life. 
Amid  the  fierce  and  freezing  storm, 

And  the  mountain  billows'  strife  I 

4.  Toll  for  the  lover  lost 

To  the  summoned  bridal  train  ! 
Bright  glows  a  picture  on  his  breast, 

Beneath  th*  unfathomed  main. 
One  from  her  casement  gazeth 

Long  o'er  the  misty  sea  ; 
He  Cometh  not,  pale  maiden  — 

His  heart  is  cold  to  thee. 

5.  Toll  for  the  absent  sire, 

Who  to  his  home  drew  near. 
To  bless  a  glad  expecting  group  — 
Fond  wife  and  children  dear! 


THE   FIFTH  READER.  95 

They  heap  the  blazing  hearth ; 

The  festal  board  is  spread ; 
But  a  fearful  guest  is  at  the  gate : 

Room  for  the  pallid  dead  1 

6.  Toll  for  the  loved  and  fair, 

The  whelmed  beneath  the  tide  — 
The  broken  harps  around  whose  strings 

The  dull  sea-monsters  glide ! 
Mother  and  nursling  sweet, 

Reft^  from  the  household  throng  ; 
There's  bitter  weeping  in  the  nest 

Where  breathed  their  soul  of  song. 

7.  Toll  for  the  hearts  that  bleed 

'Neath  misery's  furrowing  trace  I 
Toll  for  the  hapless  orjohan  left, 

The  last  of  all  his  race ! 
Yea,  with  thy  heaviest  knell, 

From  surge  to  rocky  shore. 
Toll  for  the  living,  —  not  the  dead, 

Whose  mortal  woes  are  o'er  I 

8.  Toll,  toll,  toll. 

O'er  breeze  and  billow  free, 
And  with  thy  startling  lore  ^  instruct 

Each  rover  of  the  sea : 
Tell  how  o'er  proudest  joys 

May  swift  destruction  sweep, 
And  bid  him  build  his  hopes  on  high  — 

Lone  teacher  of  the  deep. 

I  RfiFT     Taken  away  by  violence.  |  2  Lore.    Instruction  j  discipline 


96  THE  FIFTH  READER. 


XIII.  — THE  KNIGHT'S  TOAST. 

1.  The  feast  is  o'er!    Now  brimming*  wine 
In  lordly  cup  is  seen  to  shine 

Before  each  eager  guest ; 
And  silence  fills  the  crowded  hall 
As  deep  as  when  the  herald's*  call 

Thrills  in  the  loyal  breast. 

f*  2.  Then  up  arose  the  noble  host, 
^         And  smiling  cried,  "A  toast!  a  toast ! 
^ .  To  all  our  ladies  fair ! 

Here,  before  all,  I  pledge  the  name 
Of  Staunton's  proud  and  beauteous  dame- 
The  Lady  Gundamere." 


-"% 


3.  Then  to  his  feet  each  gallant  sprung, 
And  joyous  was  the  shout  that  rung, 

As  Stanley  gave  the  word ;     - 
And  every  cup  was  raised  on  high, 
Nor  ceased  the  loud  and  gladsome  cry, 

Till  Stanley's  voic€  was  heard. 

1.  "  Enough,  enough,"  he  smiling  said, 
And  lowly  bent  his  haughty  head ; 

"  That  all  may  have  their  due. 
Now  each,  in  turn,  must  play  his  part, 
And  pledge  the  lady  of  his  heart, 

Like  gallant  knight  *  and  true." 

5.  Then,  one  by  one,  each  guest  sprang  np^ 
And  drained  in  turn  the  brimming  cup, 
And  named  the  loved  one's  name ; 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  97 

And  each,  as  hand  on  high  he  raised, 
His  lady's  grace  or  beauty  praised, 
Her  constancy  and  fame. 

6.  'Tis  now  St.  Leon's  turn  to  rise ; 

On  him  are  fixed  those  countless  eyes; 

A  gallant  knight  is  he ; 
Envied  by  some,  admired  by  all, 
Far  famed  in  lady's  bower  and  hall  — 

The  flower  of  chivalry." 

7.  St.  Leon  raised  his  kindling  eye, 
And  lifts  the  sparkling  cup  on  high : 

"I  drink  to  c>?ie,"  he  said, 
"  Whose  image  never  may  depart, 
Deep  graven  on  this  grateful  heart. 

Till  memory  be  dead ;  — 

8.  "  To  one  whose  love  for  me  shall  last 
When  lighter  passions  long  have  past  — 

So  holy  'tis  and  true ; 
To  one  whose  love  hath  longer  dwelt, 
More  deeply  fixed,  more  keenly  felt, 

Than  any  pledged  by  you." 

9.  Each  guest  upstarted  at  the  word. 
And  laid  a  hand  upon  his  sword. 

With  fury-flashing  eye ; 
And  Stanley  said,  "  We  crave  *  the  name. 
Proud  knight,  of  this  most  peerless^  dame. 

Whose  love  you  count  so  high." 

10.  St.  Leon  paused,  as  if  he  would 

Not  breathe  her  name  in  careless  mood, 
Thus  lightly,  to  another; 
9 


98 


THE   FIFTH  READER. 


Then  bent  his  noble  head,  as  though 

To  give  that  word  the  reverence  due, 

And  gently  said,  "  My  Mother ! " 


I  BrYm'ming.  That  comca  up  to  the 
brim ;  full  to  the  brim. 

s»  HfeR'ALD.  An  officer,  in  the  middle 
ages,  who  carried  mcBsages  be- 
tween princes,  &c. 

8  KNiGHX.    In  feudal  times,  a  man  ad- 


mitted to  military  rank  by  a  cer- 
tain ceremony. 

*  fiilv'^L-RV.  The  body  or  order  of 
knights. 

6  Crave.    Ask  earnestly ;  beg. 

8  Peer'l^ss.    Without  an  equal. 


XIV. —A  GOOD   INVESTMENT. 

Freeman  Hunt. 

1.  "  Can  you  lend  me  two  thousand  dollars  to  establish 
myself  in  a  small  retail  business  ?  "  inquired  a  young  man, 
not  yet  out  of  his  teens,  of  a  middle-aged  gentleman,  who 
was  poring  over  his  ledger  *  in  the  counting  room  of  one 
of  the  largest  establishments'  in  Boston.  The  person 
addressed  turned  towards  the  speaker,  and  regarding  him 
for  a  moment  with  a  look  of  surprise,  inquired,  "What 
security  ^  can  you  give  me,  Mr.  Strosser  ?  " 

2.  "Nothing  but  my  note,"  replied  the  youiig  man, 
promptly. 

3.  "Which  I  fear  would  be  below  par*  in  market," 
replied  the  merchant,  smiling. 

4.  "Perhaps  so,"  said  the  young  man;  "but,  Mr.  Bar- 
ton, remember  that  the  boy  is  not  the  man  ;  the  time  may 
come  when  Hiram  Strosser's  note  will  be  as  readily 
accepted  as  that  of  any  other  man." 

5.  "True,  very  ti-ue,"  replied  Mr.  Barton,  mildly ;  "but 
you  know  business  men  seldom  lend  money  without 
adequate '  security ;  otherwise  they  might .  soon  be 
reduced  to  penury  V 

6.  At  this  remark  the  young  man's  countenance  became 
very  pale,  and,  having  kept  silent  for  several  moments, 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  99 

he  inquired,  in  a  voice  whose  tones  indicated  his  deep 
disappointment,  "Then  you  cannot  accommodate  me  — 
can  you  ?  " 

7.  "Call  upon  me  to-mon-ow,  and  I  will  give  you  a 
reply,"  said  Mr.  Barton ;  and  the  young  man  retired. 

8.  Mr.  Barton  resumed  his  labors  at  the  desk ;  but  hia 
mind  was  so  much  upon  the  boy  and  his  singular  errand, 
that  he  could  not  pursue  his  task  with  any  correctness ; 
and,  after  having  made  several  sad  blunders,  he  closed  the 
ledger,  and  took  his  hat,  and  went  out  upon  the  street. 
Arriving  opposite  the  store  of  a  wealthy  merchant  upon 
Milk  Street,  he  entered  the  door. 

9.  "  Good  morning,  Mr.  Hawley,"  said  he,  approaching 
the  proprietor  of  the  establishment,  who  was  seated  at  his 
desk,  counting  over  the  profits  of  the  week. 

10.  "Good  morning,"  replied  the  merchant,  blandly* 
"  Happy  to  see  you.  Have  a  seat  ?  Any  news  ?  How*s 
trade?" 

11.  Without  noticing  these  interrogations ',  Mr.  Barton 
said,  "Young  Strosser  is  desirous  of  establishing  him- 
self in  a  small  retail  business  in  Washington  Street,  and 
called  this  morning  to  secure  of  me  a  loan  of  two  thousand 
dollars  for  that  purpose." 

12.  "Indeed!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hawley,  evidently  sur- 
prised at  this  announcement;  "but  you  do  not  think  of 
lending  that  sum  —  do  you  ?  " 

13.  "  I  do  not  know,"  replied  Mr.  Barton.  "  Mr.  Strosser 
is  a  young  man  of  business  talent  and  strict  integrity,  and 
will  be  likely  to  succeed  in  whatever  he  undertakes." 

14.  "Perhaps  so,"  replied  Mr.  Hawley,  doubtfully ;  "but 
I  am  heartily  tired  of  helping  to  establish  these  young 
aspirants*  for  commercial  honors." 

15.  "Have  you  ever  suffered  from  such  a  course?" 
inquired  Mr.  Barton,  at  the  same  time  casting  a  roguish 
glance  at  Mr.  Hawley. 


100  THE   FIFTH  READER. 

16.  "No,-'  replied  the  latter,  "for  I  never  felt  inclined 
to  make  an  investment  of  that  kind." 

17.  "Then  here  is  a  fine  opportunity  to  do  so.  It  may 
prove  better  than  stock  in  the  bank.  As  for  myself,  I 
have  concluded  that,  if  you  will  advance  him  one  thousand 
dollars,  I  will  contribute  an  equal  sum." 

18.  "Not  a  single  farthing  would  I  advance  for  such  a 
purpose;  and  if  you  make  an  investment^  of  that  kind,  I 
Bhall  consider  you  very  foolish." 

19.  Mr.  Barton  was  silent  for  several  minutes,  and  then 
arose  to  depart.  "If  you  do  not  feel  disposed  to  share 
with  me  in  this  enterprise,  I  shall  advance  the  whole  sura 
myself."    Saying  which,  he  left  the  store. 

*  m  *  *  * 

20.  Ten  years  have  passed  away  since  the  occurrence  of 
the  conversation  recorded  in  the  preceding  dialogue,  and 
Mr.  Barton,  pale  and  agitated,  is  standing  at  the  same 
desk  at  which  he  stood  when  first  introduced  to  the  reader's 
attention.  As  page  after  page  of  his  ponderous  ledger  was 
examined,  his  despair  became  deeper  and  deeper,  till  at  last 
he  exclaimed,  "  I  am  ruined  —  utterly  ruined !  " 

21.  "How  so?"  inquired  Hiram  Strosser,  who  entered 
the  counting  room  in  season  to  hear  Mr.  Barton's  remark. 

22.  « The  last  European  steamer  brought  news  of  the 
failure  of  the  house  of  Perleh,  Jackson,  &  Co.,  London, 
who  are  indebted  to  me  in  the  sum  of  nearly  two  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars.  News  of  the  failure  has  become 
general,  and  my  creditors,  panic-stricken,  are  pressing  tor 
payment  of  their  demands.  The  banks  refuse  me  credit, 
i^nd  I  have  not  the  means  to  meet  my  liabilities '"."  If  1 
could  pa^  this  crisis,  perhaps  I  could  rally  again  ;  but  it  is 
impossible:  my  creditors  are  importunate,  and  I  cannot 
much  longer  keep  above  the  tide,"  replied  Mr.  Barton. 

23.  "  What  is  the  extent  of  your  liabilities  ? '^  inquired 
Strosser. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  101 

24.  "  Seventy-five  thousand  dollars,"  replied  Mr.  Barton. 

25.  "  Would  that  sum  be  sufficient  to  relieve  you  ?  " 

26.  « It  would." 

27.  "  Then,  sir,  you  shall  have  it,"  said  Strosser,  as  he 
stepped  up  to  the  desk,  and  drew  a  check "  for  twenty 
thousand  dollars.  "  Take  this,  and  when  you  need  more,  do 
not  hesitate  to  call  upon  me.  Remember  that  it  was  from 
you  I  received  money  to  establish  myself  in  business." 

28.  "But  that  debt  was  cancelled**  several  years  ago," 
replied  Mr.  Barton,  as  a  ray  of  hope  shot  across  his  troubled 
mind. 

29.  "True,"  replied  Strosser,  "but  the  debt  o? gratitude 
that  I  owe  has  never  been  cancelled ;  and  now  that  the 
scale  is  turned,  I  deem  it  my  duty  to  come  up  to  the 
rescue." 

30.  At  this  singular  turn  in  the  tide  of  fortune,  Mr. 
Barton  fairly  wept  for  joy. 

31.  Every  claim  against  him  was  paid  as  soon  as  pre- 
sented, and  in  less  than  a  month  he  had  passed  the  crisis, 
and  stood  perfectly  safe  and  secure ;  his  credit  improved 
and  his  business  increased,  while  several  others  sank  under 
the  blow,  and  could  not  rally,  among  whom  was  Mr.  Haw- 
ley,  alluded  to  at  the  commencement  of  this  article. 

32.  "How  did  you  manage  to  keep  above  the  tide?" 
inquired  Mr.  Hawley  of  Mr.  Barton,  one  morning,  several 
months  after  the  events  last  recorded,  as  he  met  the  latter 
upon  the  street,  on  his  way  to  his  place  of  business. 

33.  "  Very  easily,  indeed,  I  can  assure  you,"  replied  Mr. 
Barton. 

34.  "Well,  do  tell  me  how,"  continued  Mr.  Hawley; 
*I  lay  claim  to  a  good  degree  of  shrewdness,  but  the 
strongest  exercise  of  my  wits  did  not  save  me ;  and  yet 
you,  whose  liabilities  were  twice  as  heavy  as  my  own,  have 
stood  the  shock,  and  have  come  off  evjn  bettered  by  the 
Btorm." 

9* 


102 


THE  FIFTH   READER. 


35.  "The  truth  is,"  replied  Mr.  Barton,  «1  cashed  my 
paper ^  as  soon  as  it  was  sent  in." 

36.  "I  suppose  so,"  said  Mr.  Hawley,  regarding  Mr. 
Barton  with  a  look  of  surprise ;  "  but  how  did  you  obtain 
the  funds?  As  for  me,  I  could  not  obtain  a  dollar's 
credit:  the  banks  refused  to  take  my  paper,  and  even 
my  friends  deserted  me." 

37.  "A little  investment  that  I  made  some  ten  years 
ago,"  replied  Mr.  Barton,  smiling,  "  has  recently  proved 
exceedingly  profitable." 

38.  "Investment!"  echoed  Mr.  Hawley  —  "what  in- 
vestment ?  " 

39.  "Why,  do  you  not  remember  how  I  established 
young  Strosser  in  business  some  ten  years  ago  ?  " 

40.  "  O,  yes,  yes,"  replied  Mr.  Hawley,  as  a  ray  of  sus- 
picion lighted  up  his  countenance  ;  "but  what  of  that?  " 

41.  "  He  is  now  one  of  the  largest  dry  goods  dealers  in 
the  city ;  and  when  this  calamity  came  on,  he  came  for- 
ward, and  very  generously  advanced  me  seventy-five 
thousand  dollars.  You  know  I  told  you,  on  the  morning 
I  called  to  offer  you  an  equal  share  of  the  stock,  that  it 
might  prove  better  than  an  investment  in  the  bank." 

42.  During  this  announcement,  Mr.  Hawley's  eyes  were 
bent  intently  upon  the  ground,  and,  drawing  a  deep  sigh, 
ne  moved  on,  dejected  and  sad,  while  Mr.  Barton  returned 
to  his  place  of  business,  with  his  mind  cheered  and 
animated  by  thoughts  of  his  singular  investment. 


LfiDG'ER  (l^d'jer).  The  chief  book 
of  accounts  with  merchants  and 
others,  in  which  their  various  trans- 
actions are  collected  and  arranged. 

a  |:s-tXb'lish-m£nt.  That  which  is 
fixed  or  settled  firmly ;  here,  a 
place  for  transacting  business, 

»  Se-cC'ri-tv.  Safety;  anythinggiv- 
en  as  a  pledge  that  a  debt  will  be 
paid. 

I  EXr.     State   of    equality.     Stocks, 


notes,  &c.,  are  said  to  be  "  at  par  " 
when  they  sell  for  their  original 
nominal  value. 

5  Ad'e-quate.    Fully  sufficient. 

6  P£N'v-Ry.    Extreme  poverty;  des^ 

titution. 

1  In-t£r-rP-ga'tion§.  Questions  ;  in- 
quiries. 

8  As-pir'ant  {or  as'pj-rSnt).  One  who 
seeks  eagerly  j  an  ambitious  candi- 
date. 


THE  FIFTH  READER. 


103 


•  lN-v£sT'MENT.  The  laying'  out  of 
money  or  capital  in  some  perma- 
nent form,  so  as  to  produce  an  in- 
come. 

10  Li-A-BfL'i-TiE§.  Pecuniary  indebted- 
ness ;  sums  of  money  which  a  per- 
Bou  may  be  called  upon  to  pay. 


"  CiificK.    An  order  for  the  payment 
of  money. 

12  CXn'celled.       Annulled  ;     made 

void. 

13  Ta'per.    a  written  promise  to  pay 

money  j  notes,  bills  of  exchjiuge, 
&c. 


XV.— THE   CHINESE   PRISONER. 

Peucival. 

[Thomas  Percival  was  an  English  physician,  born  in  1740,  died  in  1804.    He 
wrote  a  number  of  works  on  medicine  and  on  morals.] 

1.  A  CERTAIN  emperor  of  Cliina,  on  his  accession'  to  the 
throne  of  his  ancestors,  commanded  a  general  release  of 
all  those  who  were  confined  in  prison  for  debt.  Amongst 
that  number  was  an  old  man,  who  had  fallen  an  early 
victim  to  adversity,  and  whose  days  of  imprisonment, 
reckoned  by  the  notches  which  he  had  cut  on  the  door  of 
his  gloomy  cell,  expressed  the  annual  circuit  of  more  than 
fifty  suns. 

2.  With  trembling  limbs  and  fixltering'  steps,  he  departed 
from  his  mansion  of  sorrow :  his  eyes  were  dazzled  with 
the  splendor  of  the  light,  and  the  face  of  nature  pre- 
sented to  his  view  a  perfect  paradise.  The  jail  in  which 
he  had  been  imprisoned  stood  at  some  distance  from 
Pekin,  and  to  that  city  he  directed  his  course,  impatient 
to  enjoy  the  caresses  of  his  wife,  his  children,  and  his 
friends. 

3.  Having  with  diflaculty  found  his  way  to  the  street 
in  which  his  decent  mansion  had  formerly  stood,  his  heart 
became  more  and  more  elated  at  every  step  he  advanced. 
\Yith  joy  he  proceeded,  looking  eagerly  around ;  but  ho 
observed  few  of  the  objects  with  which  he  had  been  for- 
merly conversant  ^    A  magnificent  edifice  was  erected  on 


104 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


the  site  of  the  house  which  he  had  inhabited ;  the  dwell- 
ings of  his  neighbors  had  assumed  a  new  form ;  and  he 
beheld  not  a  single  face  of  which  he  had  the  least  remem- 
brance. 

4.  An  aged  beggar  who,  with  trembling  knees,  stood  at 
the  gate  of  a  portico  "*,  from  which  he  had  been  thrust  by 
the  insolent  domestic  who  guarded  it,  struck  his  attention. 
He  stopped,  therefore,  to  give  him  a  small  pittance*  out  of 
the  bounty  with  which  he  had  been  suppUed  by  the 
emperor,  and  received,  in  return,  the  sad  tidings «,  that  his 
wife  had  fallen  a  lingering  sacrifice  to  penury  and  sorrow ; 
that  his  children  were  gone  to  seek  their  fortunes  in  distant 
or  unknown  climes;  and  that  the  grave  contained  his 
nearest  and  most  valued  friends. 

5.  Overwhelmed'  with  anguish,  he  hastened  to  the 
palace  of  his  sovereign,  into  whose  presence  his  hoary  locks 
and  mournful  visage  soon  obtained  his  admission ;  and, 
casting  himself  at  the  feet  of  the  emperor,  "  Great  Prince," 
he  cried,  "send  me  back  to  that  prison  from  which  mis- 
taken mercy  has  delivered  me !  I  have  survived  my 
family  and  friends,  and,  even  in  the  midst  of  this  populous 
city,  I  find  myself  in  a  dreary  solitude.  The  cell  of  my 
dungeon^  protected  me  from  the  gazers  at  my  wretched- 
ness ;  and  whilst  secluded"  from  society,  I  was  the  less 
sensible  of  the  loss  of  its  enjoyments.  I  am  now  tortured 
with  the  view  of  pleasure  in  which  I  cannot  participate^"; 
and  die  with  thirst,  though  streams  of  delight  surround  me." 


1  Ac-^fis'siQN.  Act  of  coming' to ;  ar- 
rival ;  also,  increase  by  sometliing' 
added  ;  that  which  is  added. 

s  FXl'ter-Ing.  Tottering;  feeble; 
unsteady ;  wavering. 

»  Con'ver-sant.    Acquainted;  famil- 
iar ;  versed. 
For'ti-co.     a  covered  space,  sur- 
rounded by  columns,  at   the  en- 
trance of  a  buildingo 


6  pIt'tan^e.  Small  allowance  or  por- 
tion ;  a  trifle. 

6  Ti'DjNG?.    News. 

1  5-ver-wh£l,med'.  Swallowed  up, 
as  by  the  sea ;  overpowered ; 
crushed. 

8  DDn'^eqn.    a  strong,  close,  dark 

prison,  or  room  in  a  prison. 

9  Se-clud'ed.  Sliut  out  or  Icept  apart 
10  P^R-Tf^'i-PATE.  Tartake;  take  part. 


THE  HPTH  BEADEB.  105 

XVI.  — THE  LAKE   OF  THE  DISMAL  SWAMP. 

Moore. 

[Thomas  Moore  was  born  in  Dublin,  Ireland,  in  1779,  and  died  in  1852.  He 
was  a  very  brilliant  lyric  poet  and  song  writer.  In  the  latter  part  of  his  life  he 
wrote  many  prose  works.  When  a  very  young  man,  he  visited  America,  and 
the  following  poem  was  one  of  the  results  of  that  visit.  The  subjoined  intro- 
duction is  by  the  author. 

"  They  tell  of  a  young  man,  who  lost  his  mind  upon  the  death  of  a  girl  ho 
loved,  and  who,  suddenly  disappearing  from  his  friends,  was  never  afterwards 
heard  of.  As  he  had  frequently  said  in  his  ravings,  that  the  girl  was  not  dead, 
but  gone  to  the  Dismal  Swamp,  it  is  supposed  he  had  wandered  into  that  dreary 
wilderness,  and  had  died  of  hunger,  or  been  lost  in  some  of  its  dreadful  mo- 
rasses." 

The  Great  Dismal  Swamp  is  mostly  in  the  north-eastern  part  of  North  Caro- 
lina, but  extends  into  Virginia.  It  is  thirty  miles  long,  and  about  ten  mileg 
wide.    Lake  Drummond  is  in  the  centre,  and  is  about  twenty  miles  in  circuit.] 

1.  "  They  made  her  a  grave  too  cold  and  damp 

For  a  soul  so  warm  and  true ; 
And  she's  gone  to  the  Lake  of  the  Dismal  Swamp, 
Where,  all  night  long,  by  a  firefly  lamp, 

She  paddles  her  white  canoe. 

2.  "And  her  firefly  lamp  I  soon  shall  see, 

And  her  paddle  I  soon  shall  hear ; 
Long  and  loving  our  life  shall  be, 
And  I'll  hide  the  maid  in  a  cypress  tree, 

When  the  footstep  of  Death  is  near." 

3.  Away  to  the  Dismal  Swamp  he  speeds ; 

His  path  was  rugged  and  sore  — 
Through  tangled  juniper,  beds  of  reeds. 
Through  many  a  fen'  where  the  serpent  feeds 

And  man  never  trod  before. 

4.  And  when  on  the  earth  he  sank  to  sleep. 

If  slumber  his  eyelids  knew, 


106 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


He  lay  where  the  deadly  vine  doth  weep 
Its  venomous^  tear,  and  nightly  steep' 
The  flesh  with  blistering  dew. 

6.  And  near  him  the  she- wolf  stirred  the  brake*, 
And  the  copper-snake*  breathed  in  his  ear; 
Till,  starting,  he  cried,  from  his  dream  awake, 
•*  O,  when  shall  I  see  the  dusky  lake, 
And  the  white  canoe  of  my  dear  ?  " 

6.  He  saw  the  lake,  and  a  meteor  ^  bright 

Quick  over  its  surface  played ; 
"  Welcome,"  he  said,  "  my  dear  one's  light," 
And  the  dim  shore  echoed,  for  many  a  night, 

The  name  of  the  death-cold  maid ; 

7.  Till  he  hollowed  a  boat  of  the  birchen  bark, 

Which  carried  him  off  from  shore  ; 
Far,  far  he  followed  the  meteor  spark ; 
The  wind  was  high,  and  the  clouds  were  darl^ 

And  the  boat  returned  no  more. 

8.  But  oft,  from  the  Indian  hunter's  camp. 

This  lover  and  maid  so  true 
Are  seen,  at  the  hour  of  midnight  damp. 
To  cross  the  lake  by  a  firefly  lamp, 
And  paddle  their  white  canoe. 


I  F£n.  a  low  land  partly  covered  with 

water ;  boggy  land. 
I  V£n'pm-0V3.    Poisonous  ;  noxious. 
«  SteEp.    Soak  ;  imbue. 
Br  AKE .  A  thicket  of  brambles,  reeds, 

or  ferns. 


6  C6p'per-snake.    a  copperhead;  • 

venomous   serpent   found  in  the 

Southern  States. 
0  Me'te-qr.    a  luminous  body  seen 

in  the  air,  or  floating  over  moist 

places ;  will-o'-the-wisp. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  107 

XVn WOODMAN,  SPARE  THAT  TREE. 

Morris. 

[George  P.  Morris,  an  American  writer,  was  born  October  10,  1802,  and  died 
July  6,  18C4.  He  was  one  of  the  editors  of  the  Home  Journal,  and  was  the 
author  of  many  popular  songs.] 

1.  Woodman,  spare  that  tree ; 

Touch  not  a  single  bough ; 
In  youth  it  sheltered  me. 

And  I'll  protect  it  now. 
^    'Twas  my  forefather's  *  hand 

That  placed  it  near  his  cot ; 
Then,  woodman,  let  it  stand  ; 

Thy  axe  shall  harm  it  not. 

2.  That  old,  familiar^  tree,   ' 

Whose  glory  and  renown' 
Are  spread  o'er  land  and  sea, 

And  wouldst  thou  hew  it  down  t 
Woodman,  forbear  thy  stroke ; 

Cut  not  its  earth-bound  ties ; 
O,  spare  that  aged  oak, 

Now  towering^  to  the  skies. 

8.  When  but  an  idle  boy, 

I  sought  its  grateful  shade ; 
In  all  their  gushing  ^  joy. 

Here,  too,  my  sisters  played. 
My  mother  kissed  me  here  ; 

My  father  pressed  my  band : 
Forgive  this  foolish  tear. 

But  let  that  old  oak  stand. 

4,   My  heartstrings  round  thee  cling; 
Close  as  thy  bark,  old  friend  ! 
Here  shall  the  wild  bird  sing, 
And  still  thy  branches  bend. 


108 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


Old  tree,  the  storm  still  brave ! 

And,  woodman,  leave  the  spot; 
While  I've  a  hand  to  save. 

Thy  axe  shall  harm  it  not. 


1  Foee'fX-ther 

a    grandfather. 

father, 
t  F^-MlL'i^R.    Well-known. 


An   ancestor,    aa 
or     great-grand- 


»  Renown'.    Fame ;  high  honor. 

4  To>^'ER-TfNa,    llising  aloft. 

5  GDsh'ing.  Flowing  j  exuberant  j  Im 

pulsive.  ' 


XVIIL  — LOSS   OF  THE  ARCTIC. 

Beecher. 

[Henry  Ward  Beecher  1b  an  eloquent  clergyman  and  public  lecturer,  living 
in  Brooklyn,  New  York.  The  steamer  Arctic  was  lost  by  a  collision  with 
another  vessel,  in  a  voyage  from  Liverpool  to  New  York,  in  September,  1854, 
aad  a  great  many  persons  perished.] 

1.  It  was  autumn.  Hundreds  had  wended  their  way 
from  pilgrimages » ;  —  from  Rome  and  its  treasures  of  dead 
art,  and  its  glory  of  Hving  nature  ;  from  the  sides  of  the 
Switzer's  mountains ;  from  the  capitals  of  various  nations ; 
all  of  them  saying  in  their  hearts.  We  will  wait  for  the 
September  gales  to  have  done  with  their  equinoctial '  fury, 
and  then  we  will  embark ;  we  will  slide  across  the  appeased 
ocean,  and  in  the  gorgeous  month  of  October  we  will 
greet  our  longed-for  native  land  and  our  heart-loved  homes. 

2.  And  so  the  throng  streamed  along  from  Berlin,  from 
Paris,  from  the  Orient,  converging'  upon  London,  still 
hastening  towards  the  welcome  ship,  and  narrowing,  every 
day,  the  circle  of  engagements  and  preparations.  They 
crowded  aboard.  Never  had  the  Arctic  borne  such  a  host 
of  passengers,  nor  passengers  so  nearly  related  to  so  many 
of  us. 

3.  The  hour  was  come.  The  signal  ball  fell  at  Green- 
wich.*    It  was  noon  also  at  Liverpool.     The  anchors  were 


*  At  the  observatory  in  Greenwich  (pronounced  Grgn'jj),  England,  a  signal 
ball  falls  every  day  precisely  at  noon. 


THE   FIFTH  READER.  109 

weighed ;  the  great  hull  swayed  to  the  ocurrent ;  the 
national  colors  streamed  abroad,  as  if  themselves  instinct 
with  life  and  national  sympathy.  The  bell  strikes ;  the 
wheels  revolve ;  the  signal  gun  beats  its  echoes  in  upon 
every  structure  along  the  shore,  and  the  Arctic  glides  joy- 
fully forth  from  the  Mersey,*  and  turns  her  prow  to  the 
winding  channel,  and  begins  her  homeward  run.  The 
pilot  stood  at  the  wheel,  and  men  saw  him.  Death  sat 
upon  the  prow,  and  no  eye  beheld  him.  Whoever  stood 
at  the  wheel  in  all  the  voyage,  Death  was  the  pilot  that 
steered  the  craft,  and  none  knew  it.  He  neither  revealed 
his  presence  nor  whispered  his  errand. 

4.  And  so  hope  was  effulgent,  and  lithe"*  gayety  dis- 
ported^ itself,  and  joy  was  with  every  guest.  Amid  all 
the  inconveniences  of  the  voyage,  there  was  still  that 
which  hushed  every  murmur  —  "Home  is  not  far  away." 
And  every  morning  it  was  still  one  night  nearer  home  I 
Eight  days  had  passed.  They  beheld  that  distant  bank 
of  mist  that  forever  haunts  the  vast  shallows  of  New- 
foundland, t  Boldly  they  made  it  ;  and  plunging  in, 
its  pliant  wreaths  wrapped  them  about.  They  shall  never 
emerge.  The  last  sunlight  has  flashed  from  that  deck. 
The  last  voyage  is  done  to  ship  and  passengers.  At  noon 
there  came,  noiselessly  stealing  from  the  north,  that  fated 
instrument  of  destruction.  In  that  mysterious  shroud,  that 
vast  atmosphere  of  mist,  both  steamers  were  holding  their 
way  with  rushing  prow  and  roaring  wheels,  but  invisible. 

5.  At  a  league's' distance  unconscious,  and  at  nearer  ap- 
proach unwarned,  —  within  hail,  and  bearing  right  towards 
each  other,  unseen,  unfelt,  —  till  in  a  moment  more,  emer- 
ging from  the  gray  mists,  the  ill-omened  Vesta  dealt  her 
deadly  stroke  to  the  Arctic.  The  death-blow  was  scarcely 
felt  along  the  mighty  hull.  She  neither  reeled  nor  shiv- 
ered.    Neither  commander  nor  officers  deemed  that  they 

*  Pronounced  Met' ze.  \  /VonowicCdZ  Nu'fund-laiid. 

lo" 


110 


THE  FIFTH  READEE. 


had  suffered  harm.  Prompt  upon  humanity,  the  brave 
Luce  (let  his  name  be  ever  spoken  with  admiration  and 
respect)  ordered  away  his  boat  with  the  first  officer  to 
inquire  if  the  stranger  had  suffered  harm.  As  Gourley 
went  over  the  ship's  side,  O,  that  some  good  angel  had 
called  to  the  brave  commander  in  the  words  of  Paul,  on  a 
like  occasion,  "  Except  these  abide  in  the  ship,  ye  cannot 
be  saved." 

6.  They  departed,  and  with  them  the  hope  of  the  ship, 
for  now  the  waters,  gaining  upon  the  hold,  and,  rising  uj) 
upon  the  fires,  revealed  the  mortal  blow.  O,  had  now 
that  stern,  brave  mate,  Gourley,  been  on  deck,  whom  the 
sailors  were  wont  to  mind,  —  had  he  stood  to  execute 
efficiently  the  commander's  will,  —  we  may  believe  that 
we  should  not  have  had  to  blush  for  the  cowardice  and 
recreancy  ®  of  the  crew,  nor  weep  for  the  untimely  dead. 
But,  apparently,  each  subordinate  officer  lost  all  presence 
of  mind,  then  courage,  and  so  honor.  In  a  wild  scramble, 
that  ignoble  mob  of  firemen,  engineers,  waiters,  and  crew 
rushed  for  the  boats,  and  abandoned  the  helpless  women, 
children,  and  men  to  the  mercy  of  the  deep !  Four  hours 
there  were  from  the  catastrophe  of  the  collision  to  the 
catastrophe  of  sinking  ! 

7.  O,  what  a  burial  was  here !  Not  as  when  one  is 
borne  from  his  home,  among  weeping  throngs,  and  gently 
carried  to  the  green  fields,  and  laid  peacefully  beneath  the 
turf  and  the  flowers.  No  priest  stood  to  pronounce  a 
burial  service.  It  was  an  ocean  grave.  The  mists  alone 
shrouded  the  burial-place.  No  spade  prepared  the  grave, 
nor  sexton  filled  up  the  hollowed  earth.  Down,  down 
they  sank,  and  the  quick  returning  waters  smoothed  out 
every  ripple,  and  left  the  sea  as  placid  as  before. 

J  PlL'GRjM-A^-Ef.     Journeys   under-  3  Con-vSr^'ixs.      Tending    towards 
taken  to  some  hallowed  place,  or  the  same  point  or  place, 

for  devotional  purposes.  4  Lithe.    Mild  ;  gentle. 

»  E-qxji-n5c'tiai,.    Pertaining  to  the  5  dis-port'ed.    Diverted;  amused, 

time  of  the  equinox.  o  Rfic'Rip-^N-^y.    Faithlessness. 


THE   FIFTH   READiSR.  Ill 


XIX.  — THE  SONG   OF  THE  FOEGB. 

1.  Clang,  clang !  the  massive  anvils  ^  ring ; 
Clang,  clang !  a  hundred  hammers  swing ; 
Like  the  thunder-rattle  of  a  tropic  sky, 
The  mighty  blows  still  multiply ; 

Clang,  clang ! 
Say,  brothers  of  the  dusky  brow, 
What  are  your  strong  arms  forging  now  ? 
Clang,  clang!     We  forge  the  colter^  now. 
The  colter  of  the  kindly  plough ; 
Prosper  it.  Heaven,  and  bless  our  toil ! 

May  its  broad  furrow  still  unbind^ 

To  genial  rains,  to  sun  and  wind, 
The  most  benignant  soil ! 
Clang,  clang !     Our  colter's  course  shall  be 
On  many  a  sweet  and  sheltered  lea. 

By  many  a  streamlet's  silver  tide, 
Amid  the  song  of  morning  birds. 
Amid  the  low  of  sauntering  herds, 
Amid  soft  breezes  which  do  stray 
Through  woodbine  hedges  and  sweet  may,.* 

Along  the  green  hill's  side. 
When  regal  Autumn's  bounteous  hand 
With  wide-spread  glory  clothes  the  land,  — 
When  to  the  valleys,  from  the  brow 

Of  each  resplendent^  slope,  is  rolled 

A  ruddy  sea  of  living  gold,  — 
We  bless  —  we  bless  the  plough. 

2.  Clang,  clang !    Again,  my  mates,  what  glows 
Beneath  the  hammer's  potent  blows?  — 
Clink,  clank !     We  forge  the  giant  chain, 
Which  bears  the  gallant  vessel's  strain, 

*Iii  England,  the  familiar  name  of  tbe  common  hawthorn  and  Its  flowers 


112  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

'Mid  stormy  winds  and  adverse  tides ; 
Secured  by  this,  the  good  ship  braves 
The  rocky  roadstead  °,  and  the  waves 

Which  thunder  on  her  sides. 

Anxious  no  more,  the  merchant  sees 

The  mist  drive  dark  before  the  breeze, 

The  storm-cloud  on  the  hill ; 

Calmly  he  rests,  though  far  away 
In  boisterous  climes  his  vessel  lay, 

Reliant  on  our  skill. 

Say,  on  what  sands  these  links  shall  sleep, 

Fathoms  beneath  the  solemn  deep ; 

By  Afric's  pestilential  shore,  — 

By  many  an  iceberg ',  lone  and  hoar,  — 
By  many  a  palmy  Western  isle. 
Basking  in  Spring's  perpetual  smile,  — 

By  stormy  Labrador. 

Say,  shall  they  feel  the  vessel  reel. 

When  to  the  battery's  deadly  peal 

The  crashing  broadside  makes  reply  ? 
Or  else,  as  at  the  glorious  Nile,* 
Hold  grappling  ships,  that  strive  the  while 

For  death  or  victory? 

3.   Hurrah !    Cling,  clang !    Once  more,  what  glows, 

Dark  brothers  of  the  forge,  beneath 
The  iron  tempest  of  your  blows. 

The  furnace's  red  breath  ? 
Clang,  clang  !    A  burning  torrent,  clear 

And  brilliant,  of  bright  sparks,  is  poured 
Around  and  up  in  the  dusky  air. 

As  our  hammers  forge  the  swokd. 

*  The  battle  of  the  Nile  was  fouj?ht  near  one  of  the  mouths  of  the  River  Nile, 
August  1,  1798.  In  this  battle  the  English  fleet,  commanded  by  Lord  Nelson, 
badly  defeated  the  French  fleet  under  Brueys. 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


113 


The  sword !  —  a  name  of  dread  ;  yet  when 

Upon  the  freeman's  thigh  'tis  bound, 
While  for  his  altar  and  his  hearth, 
While  for  the  land  that  gave  him  birth. 

The  war-drums  roll,  the  trumpets  sound. 
How  sacred  is  it  then ! 
Whenever,  for  the  truth  and  right, 
It  flashes  in  the  van  of  fight,  — 
Whether  in  some  wild  mountain  pass, 
As  that  where  fell  Leonidas,*  — 
Or  on  some  sterile  plain,  and  stern, 
A  Marston  t  or  a  Bannockburn,  J  — 
Or  'mid  fierce  crags  and  bursting  rills, 
The  Switzer's  Alps,  gray  Tyrol's  §  hills, — 
Or,  as  when  sank  the  Armada's '  pride, 
It  gleams  above  the  stormy  tide,  — 
Still,  still,  whene'er  the  battle-word 
Is  Liberty,  —  when  men  do  stand 
For  justice  and  their  native  land, — 
Then  Heaven  bless  the  swoed  ! 


1  AN'viii.     An  iron  block  on  which 

iron  and  other  metals  are  laid  to 

be  hamraered. 
iCoi/TER.     The  cutting'  iron  of  a 

plough. 
8  Vn-bind'.    Loosen  ;  open. 
*  RE-SPL,]iN'DENT.      Having-  a  bright 

lustre ;  shining. 


5  Road'stEad.  a  place  of  anchorage 
at  some  distance  from  the  shore. 

*  ice'berg,    a  vast  mass  of  ice. 

7  Ar-ma'I)A.  The  name  given  to  a  vast, 
fleet  sent  by  Spain  against  England 
in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth.  The  ar- 
mada was  badly  defeated  by  the 
English  fleet. 


*  Leonidas.  A  king  of  Sparta  who  defended  the  pass  of  Thermopylae  with 
three  hundred  Spartans  against  the  Persian  army  under  Xerxes,,and  gained  im- 
mortal glory  by  the  heroic  death  of  himself  and  his  little  band. 

t  Marston  Moor.  A  large  plain  about  eight  miles  from  York,  England, 
where  the  parliamentary  forces  gained  a  decisive  victory  over  the  royalists, 
in  1644. 

I  Bannockburn.  A  village  in  Scotland  famous  for  a  battle  in  which  the 
Scots  under  Robert  Bruce  signally  defeated  the  English  army  under  Edward 
IL,  in  1314. 

§  Ttrol.    An  Austrian  province  north  of  Italy, 

10* 


114  THE  FIFTH  EEADEB. 

XX.  — LITTLE  EDWARD. 

Mrs.  Stowe. 

[Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe,  the  world-renowned  author  of  Uncle  Tom  s 
Cabin,  is  the  daughter  of  the  Kev.  Lyman  Beecher,  D.  D.,  and  wife  of  Professor 
Calvin  E.  Stowe,  of  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Andover,  Massachusetts. 

The  following  extract  is  from  the  May-Flower,  a  collection  of  sketches  and 
narratives,  marked  by  the  same  combination  of  humor  and  pathos  which  is  bo 
eonspicuous  in  her  novel.] 

1.  Were  any  of  you  bom  in  "New  England,  in  the  good 
old  catechising  \  church-going,  school-going,  orderly  times  ? 
If  so,  you  may  have  seen  my  uncle  Abel ;  the  most  per- 
pendicular, rectangular ',  upright,  downright  good  man  that 
ever  labored  six  days  and  rested  on  the  seventh. 

2.  You  remember  his  hard,  weather-beaten  countenance, 
where  every  line  seemed  drawn  with  "  a  pen  of  iron  and 
the  point  of  a  diamond ; "  his  considerate  gray  eyes,  that 
moved  over  objects  as  if  it  were  not  best  to  be  in  a  hurry 
about  seeing;  the  circumspect'  opening  and  shutting  of 
the  mouth;  his  downsitting  and  uprising,  all  performed 
with  deliberate  forethought ;  in  short,  the  whole  ordering 
of  his  life  and  conversation,  which  was,  after  a  military 
fashion,  "to  the  right  about  face  —  forward,  march." 

3.  Now,  if  you  supposed,  from  all  this  sternness  of  exte- 
rior, that  this  good  man  had  nothing  kindly  within,  you 
were  much  mistaken.  You  often  find  the  greenest  grass 
under  a  snow-drift;  and  though  my  uncle's  mind  was  not 
exactly  of  the  flower-garden  kind,  still  there  was  an  abun- 
dance of  wholesome  and  kindly  vegetation  there. 

4.  It  is  true  he  seldom  laughed,  and  never  joked  him- 
self; but  no  man  had  a  more  serious  and  weighty  convic- 
tion of  what  a  joke  was  in  another;  and  when  a  witticism^ 
was  uttered  in  his  presence,  you  might  see  his  face  relax 
into  an  expression  of  solemn  satisfaction,  and  he  would 
took  at  the  author  with  a  sort  of  quiet  wonder,  as  if  it 


THE    FIFTH   READER.  115 

were  past  his  comprehension  how  such  a  thing  could  ever 
come  into  a  man's  head. 

5.  Uncle  Abel,  too,  had  some  relish  for  the  fine  arts^; 
in  proof  of  which,  I  might  adduce  the  pleasure  with  which 
he  gazed  at  the  plates  in  his  family  Bible,  the  likeness 
whereof  is  neither  in  heaven,  nor  on  earth,  nor  under  the 
earth.  And  he  was  also  so  eminent  a  musician,  that  he  could 
go  through  the  singing  book  at  one  sitting  without  the 
least  fatigue,  beating  time  like  a  windmill  all  the  way. 

6.  He  had,  too,  a  liberal  hand,  though  his  liberality  was 
all  by  the  rule  of  three.  He  did  by  his  neighbor  exactly 
as  he  would  be  done  by;  he  loved  some  things  in  this 
world  very  sincerely;  he  loved  his  God  much,  but  he 
honored  and  feared  him  more ;  he  was  exact  with  others, 
but  he  was  more  exact  with  himself,  and  he  expected  his 
God  to  be  more  exact  still. 

7.  Every  thing  in  uncle  Abel's  house  was  in  the  same 
time,  place,  manner,  and  form,  from  year's  end  to  year's 
end.  There  was  old  Master  Bose,  a  dog  after  my 
uncle's  own  heart,  who  always  walked  as  if  he  were  study- 
ing the  multiplication  table.  There  Avas  the  old  clock, 
forever  ticking  in  the  chimney  corner,  with  a  picture  of 
the  sun  upon  its  face,  forever  setting  behind  a  perpendicu- 
lar row  of  poplar  trees.  There  was  the  never-failing  sup- 
ply of  red  peppers  and  onions  hanging  over  the  chimney. 

8.  There,  too,  were  the  yearly  hollyhocks  and  morning 
glories  blooming  about  the  windows.  There  was  the 
"  best  room,"  with  its  sanded  floor ;  the  cupboard  in  one 
corner,  with  its  glass  doors;  the  evergreen  asparagus 
bushes  in  the  chimney ;  and  there  was  the  stand  with  the 
Bible  and  almanac  on  it  in  another  corner.  There,  too, 
was  aunt  Betsey,  who  never  looked  any  older,  because  she 
always  looked  as  old  as  she  could  ;  who  always  dried  her 
catnip  and  wormwood  the  last  of  September,  and  began 
to  clean  house  the  first  of  May.     In  short,  tliis  was  the 


116  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

land  of  continuance.^  Old  Time  never  took  it  into  his 
head  to  practise  either  addition  or  subtraction  or  multi- 
plication, on  its  sum  total. 

9.  This  aunt  Betsey  aforenamed  was  the  neatest  and 
most  efficient  piece  of  human  machinery  that  ever  operated 
in  forty  places  at  once.  She  was  always  every  where,  pre- 
dominating '  over  and  seeing  to  every  thing ;  and  though 
my  uncle  had  been  twice  married,  aunt  Betsey's  rule  and 
authority  had  never  been  broken.  She  reigned  over  his 
wives  when  living,  and  reigned  after  them  when  dead ; 
and  so  seemed  likely  to  reign  on  till  the  end  of  the 
chapter. 

10.  But  my  uncle's  latest  wife  left  aunt  Betsey  a  much 
less  tractable  subject  than  ever  before  had  fallen  to  her 
lot.  Little  Edward  was  the  child  of  my  uncle's  old  age, 
and  a  brighter,  merrier  little  blossom  never  grew  on  the 
verge  of  a  snow-drift.  He  had  been  committed  to  the 
nursing  of  his  grandmamma  till  he  had  arrived  at  the  age 
of  *V2discretion,  and  then  my  old  uncle's  heart  so  yearned 
for  him  that  he  was  brought  home. 

11.  His  introduction  into  the  family  excited  a  terrible 
sensation.  Never  was  there  such  a  contemner^  of  digni- 
ties, such  a  violator  of  high  places  and  sanctities,  as  this 
same  Master  Edward.  It  was  in  vain  to  try  to  teach  him 
decorum.  He  was  the  most  outrageously  merry  elf"  that 
ever  shook  a  head  of  curls.  He  laughed  and  frolicked 
with  every  body  and  every  thing  that  came  in  his  way, 
not  even  excepting  his  solemn  old  father;  and  when  you 
saw  Iiim  with  his  fair  arms  around  the  old  man's  neck,  and 
his  bright  blue  eyes  and  blooming  cheek  peering '°  out  be- 
side the  bleak  face  of  uncle  Abel,  you  might  fancy  you 
saw  Spring  caressing  Winter.  Uncle  Abel's  metaphysics" 
were  sorely  puzzled  by  this  sparkling,  dancing  compound 
of  spirit  and  matter;  nor  could  he  devise  any  method 
of  bringing  it  into  any  reasonable  shape,  for  it  did  mis- 


THE  FIFTH   READER. 


IIT 


chief  with  an  energy  and  perseverance  that  were  truly 
astonishing. 


1  CXt'e-jBhi^-ing.  Instructing  by  ask- 
ing questions  and  receiving  an- 
swers on  religious  subjects. 

«  Rec-tIn'gv-lar.  Literally,  having 
right  angles  ;  rigid  ;  exact. 

8  CiR'cvM-spfiCT.    Careful ;  discreet. 

4  wIt'tj-cT^m.    a  joke ;  a  jest. 

6  Fine  Arts.  Arts  which  are  not 
chiefly  mcchanidal,  as  painting, 
music,  and  sculpture. 

«  CpN-TiN'y-ANCE.  Constancy  J  per- 
manence. 


7  Pre-dom'i-nat-ing,    Ruling  ;  con- 

trolling ;  prevailing, 

8  CoN-TiiM'NER,    One  who  contemns 

or  disregards. 

9  EL.F.  A  fairy  or  imaginary  being ;  a 

term    often   applied  to  any  small 

and  sportive  being. 
10  Peer'ing.     Looking   narrowly  or 

curiously  ;  peeping, 
u  M£t-a-pii?'§'ics.     Mental  science; 

the  philosophy  of  the  mind  as  dis 

tinguishcd  from  matter. 


XXL  — LITTLE  EDWARD,   CONCLUDED. 

1.  But  uncle  Abel  was  most  of  all  perplexed  to  know 
what  to  do  with  him  on  the  Sabbatli ;  for  on  that  day 
Master  Edward  seemed  to  exert  himself  to  be  particularly 
diligent  and  entertaining. 

2.  "Edward!  Edward  must  not  play  Sunday!"  his 
father  would  call  out ;  and  then  Edward  would  hold  up 
his  curly  head,  and  look  as  grave  as  the  catechism ;  but  in 
three  minutes  you  would  see  pussy  scampering  through 
the  "best  room,"  with  Edward  at  her  heels,  to  the  entire 
discomposure  of  all  devotion  in  aunt  Betsey,  and  all  others 
in  authority. 

3.  At  length  my  uncle  came  to  the  conclusion  that  "it 
wasn't  in  nature  to  teach  him  any  better,"  and  that  "he 
could  no  more  keep  Sunday  than  the  brook  down  in  the 
lot."  My  poor  uncle !  he  did  not  know  what  was  the 
matter  with  his  heart ;  but  certain  it  was,  he  lost  all  fac- 
ulty of  scolding  when  little  Edward  was  in  the  case,  and 
he  would  rub  his  spectacles  a  quarter  of  an  hour  longer 
than  common  when  aunt  Betsey  was  detailing  his  witti- 
cisms and  clever  doincrs. 


118  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

4.  In  process  of  time,  our  hero  had  completed  his  third 
year,  and  arrived  at  the  dignity  of  going  to  school.  He 
went  tlirough  the  spelling  book,  and  then  attacked  the 
catechism ;  went  through  with  it  in  a  fortnight,  and  at  last 
came  home  in  great  delight,  to  tell  his  father  that  he  had 
got  to  "  Amen." 

5.  After  this,  he  made  a  regular  business  of  saying  over 
the  whole  every  Sunday  evening,  standing  with  his  hands 
folded  in  front,  occasionally  glancing  around  to  see  if 
pussy  gave  proper  attention.  And  being  of  a  practically 
benevolent  turn  of  mind,  he  made  several  commendable 
efforts  to  teach  Bose  the  catechism,  in  which  he  succeeded 
as  well  as  might  have  been  expected.  In  short,  without 
further  detail,  Master  Edward  bade  fair  to  become  a  liter- 
ary wonder. 

6.  But  alas  for  poor  little  Edward !  his  merry  dance  was 
soon  over.  A  day  came  when  he  sickened.  Aunt  Betsey 
tried  all  her  simple  remedies,  but  in  vain ;  he  grew  rapidly 
worse  and  worse.  His  father's  heart  was  torn  with  sor- 
row, but  he  said  nothing;  he  only  staid  by  his  child's 
bedside  day  and  night,  trying  all  means  to  save  him,  with 
affecting  pertinacity*. 

7.  "Can't  you  think  of  any  thing  more,  doctor?"  said 
he  to  the  physician,  when  all  had  been  tried  in  vain. 
"Nothing,"  answered  the  physician. 

8.  A  momentary  convulsion  passed  over  my  uncle's  face. 
"  The  will  of  the  Lord  be  done,"  said  he,  almost  with  a 
groan  of  anguish. 

9.  Just  at  this  moment,  a  ray  of  the  setting  sun  pierced 
the  checked  curtains,  and  gleamed  like  an  angel's  smile 
across  the  face  of  the  little  sufferer.  He  woke  from 
troubled  sleep. 

10.  "O  dear!  I  am  so  sick!"  he  gasped  feebly.  His 
father  raised  him  in  his  anus;  he  breathed  easier,  and 
looked  up  with  a  grateful  smile.    Just  then  his  old  play- 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  119 

mate,  the  cat,  crossed  the  room.     "There  goes  pussy," 
said  he :  "  O  dear,  I  shall  never  play  any  more." 

11.  At  that  moment,  a  deadly  change  passed  over  hia 
countenance.  He  looked  up  in  his  father's  face  with  an 
imploring  expression,  and  put  out  his  hand  as  if  for  help. 
There  was  one  moment  of  agony,  and  then  the  sweet 
features  all  settled  into  a  smile  of  peace,  and  "  mortality 
was  swallowed  up  of  life."  My  uncle  laid  him  down,  and 
looked  one  moment  at  his  beautiful  face.  It  was  too 
much  for  his  principles,  too  much  for  his  consistency '^j  and 
he  "lifted  up  his  voice  and  wept." 

12.  The  next  morning  was  the  Sabbath  —  the  funeral 
day;  and  it  rose  with  "breath  all  incense,  and  with  cheek 
all  bloom."  Uncle  Abel  was  as  calm  and  collected  as 
ever ;  but  in  his  face  there  was  a  sorrow-stricken  expression 
touching  to  behold.  I  remember  him  at  family  prayers, 
as  he  bent  over  the  great  Bible,  and  began  the  psalm, 
"Lord,  thou  hast  been  our  dwelling-place  in  all  genera- 
tions." Apparently  he  was  touched  by  the  melancholy 
siDlendor  of  the  poetry,  for,  after  reading  a  few  verses,  he 
stopped. 

13.  There  was  a  dead  silence,  interrupted  only  by  the 
ticking  of  the  clock.  He  cleared  his  voice  repeatedly,  and 
tried  to  go  on,  but  in  vain.  He  closed  the  book,  and 
kneeled  down  to  pray.  The  energy  of  sorrow  broke 
through  his  usual  formal  reverence,  and  his  language  flowed 
forth  with  a  deep  and  sorrowful  pathos^  which  I  shall 
never  forget.  The  God  so  much  reverenced,  so  much 
feared,  seemed  to  draw  near  to  him  as  a  friend  and  com- 
forter, his  refuge  and  strength,  "a  very  present  help  in 
time  of  trouble." 

14.  My  uncle  rose,  and  I  saw  him  walk  to  the  room  of 
the  departed  one.  He  uncovered  the  face.  It  was  set 
with  the  seal  of  death ;  but  O,  how  surpassingly  lovely  1 
The  brilliancy  of  life  was  gone,  but  that  pure,  transparent 


120 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


face  was  touched  with  a  mysterious'',  triumphant  bright- 
ness, which  seemed  Uke  the  dawning  of  heaven. 

15.  My  uncle  looked  long  and  earnestly.  He  felt  the 
beauty  of  what  he  gazed  on ;  his  heart  was  softened,  but 
he  had  no  words  for  his  feelings.  He  left  the  room  un- 
consciously, and  sat  in  the  front  door.  The  morning  was 
bright,  the  bells  were  ringing  for  church,  the  birds  were 
singing  merrily,  and  little  Edward's  pet  squirrel  was  frol- 
icking about  the  door.  My  uncle  watched  him  as  he  ran 
up  one  tree  and  then  dowiv,  and  up  another,  and  then  over 
the  fence,  whisking  his  brush,  and  chattering  just  as  if 
nothing  was  the  matter.  With  a  deep  sigh  uncle  Abel 
broke  forth :  "  How  happy  that  creature  is !  Well,  the 
Lord's  will  be  done." 

16.  That  day  the  dust  was  committed  to  dust,  amid  the 
lamentations  of  all  who  had  known  him.  Years  have 
passed  since  then,  and  all  that  is  mortal  of  my  uncle  has 
long  since  been  gathered  to  his  fathers ;  but  his  just  and 
upright  spirit  has  entered  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  sons 
of  God.  Yes,  the  good  man  may  have  had  opinions  which 
the  philosophical^  scorn,  and  weaknesses  at  which  the 
thoughtless  smile ;  but  death  shall  change  him  into  all  that 
is  enlightened,  wise,  and  refined;  for  he  shall  awake  in 
♦'His  likeness"  and  "be  satisfied." 


1  PfiR-Ti-NX^'l-TY,  Firm  or  unyield- 
ing' adherence  to  opinion  or  pur- 
pose ;  steadiness  ;  constancy. 

9  CoN-sts'TEN-cY.  Agreement  or  uni- 
formity of  principle  or  conduct ; 
state  of  being  consistent. 


3  Pa'thSs.    That  which  excites  deep 

feeling- ;  tender  emotion. 
i  Mys  TE'Ri-oOs.     Hidden;  obscure; 

not  understood. 
5  PHlL-O-sSpii'i-CAii.    Men  skilled  in 

philosophy  3  deeply  learned  men. 


¥ 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  121 

XXII.  — THE  CORAL  GROVE. 

J.  G.  Percival. 

[James  Gates  Percival  was  born  in  Connecticut,  in  September,  1795,  and  died 
in  May,  185(5.  He  was  a  brilliant  and  imaginative  poet,  and  also  distinguished 
as  a  man  of  science.] 

1.  Deep  in  the  wave  is  a  coral '  grove, 
Where  the  pnri)}:e  mullet  and  goldfish  rove, 
Where  the  sea-flower  spreads  its  leaves  of  blue, 
That  never  are  wet  with  the  falling  dew, 

But  in  bright  and  changeful  beauty  shine, 
Far  down  in  the  green  and  glassy  brine. 

2.  The  floor  is  of  sand,  like  the  mountain's  drift', 

And  the  pearl-shells  spangle  the  flinty  snow ; 
From  coral  rocks  the  sea-plants  lift 

Their  boughs  where  the  tides  and  billows  flow. 
The  water  is  calm  and  still  below, 

For  the  winds  and  waves  are  absent  there ; 
And  the  sands  are  bright  as  the  stars  that  glow 

In  the  motionless  fields  of  upper  air. 
There,  with  its  waving  blade  of  green. 

The  sea-flag  streams  through  the  silent  water, 
And  the  crimson  leaf  of  the  dulse  ^  is  seen 

To  blush  like  a  banner  bathed  in  slaughter. 

3.  There,  with  a  light  and  easy  motion, 

The  fan-coral  sweeps  through  the  clear,  deep  sea; 
And  the  yellow  and  scarlet  tufts  of  ocean 

'Are  bending,  like  corn  on  the  upland  lea*: 
And  life,  in  rare  and  beautiful  forms, 

Is  sporting  amid  those  bowers  of  stone. 
And  is  safe,  when  the  wrathful  spirit  of  storms 
Has  made  the  top  of  the  wave  his  own. 
11 


122 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


4.  And  when  the  ship  from  his  fury  flies, 

Where  the  myriad  *  voices  of  ocean  roar ; 
When  the  wind-god  frowns  in  the  murky  ^  skies, 

And  demons  are  waiting  the  wreck  on  the  shore,— 
Then,  far  below,  in  the  peaceful  sea, 

The  purple  mullet  and  goldfish  rove. 
And  the  waters  murmur  tranquilly 

Through  the  bending  twigs  of  the  coral  grove. 


i  C<5r'al.  a  hard  Bubstance  found  in 
the  ocean,  supposed  to  be  the  re- 
mains of  very  small  sea  animals. 

t  DrIft.  Any  matter  driven  together 
by  wind  or  water  ;  earthy  or  rocky 
matter,  carried  by  water  from  one 
place  to  another. 

i  DOlse.  a  species  of  seaweed,  of  a 
reddish  brown  color,  found  in  con- 


siderable quantities  on  the  coast 
of  Scotland.  It  adheres  to  the 
rocks,  in  strips  of  ten  or  twelve 
inches  long  and  about  half  an  inch 
broad. 

Lea.    Grass  or  sward  land. 

M\'r'|-ad.  Too  numerous  to  be 
counted ;  immensely  numerous. 

MUr'kv.    Dark  ;  gloomy ;  cloudy. 


XXIIL  — SONG   OF  REBECCA,  THE  JEWESS. 

Sir  Walter  Scott. 

[Sir  Walter  Scott,  one  of  the  most  eminent  names  in  English  literature,  was 
born  in  Edinburgh,  August  15,  1771,  and  died  September  21,  18^2.  lie  is  the 
author  of  a  great  many  works,  comprising  poems,  novels,  and  miscellanies. 

This  poem  is  from  hisnovel  called  "  Ivanhoe."] 

1.  When  Israel,*  of  the  Lord  beloved. 

Out  from  the  land  of  bondage  came, 
Her  father's  God  before  her  moved. 

An  awful  guide,  in  smoke  and  flame. 
By  day,  along  the  astonished  lands,  ♦ 

The  cloudy  pillar  glided  slow ; 
By  night,  Arabia's  crimsoned  sands 

Returned  the  fiery  column's  glow. 


*  Israel.    Israel  and  Judah  are  terms  used  to  designate  the  Jewish  people. 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


123 


2.  There  rose  the  choral'  hymn  of  praise, 

And  trump  and  timbrel^  answered  keen ; 
And  Zion's^  daughters  poured  their  lays, 

With  Priest's  and  Warrior's  voice  between. 
No  portents  *  now  our  foes  amaze ; 

Forsaken  Israel  wanders  lone ! 
Our  fathers  would  not  know  Thy  ways, 

And  Tnou  hast  left  them  to  their  own. 

3.  But  present  still,  though  now  unseen 

When  brightly  shines  the  prosperous  day, 
Be  thoughts  of  Thee  a  cloudy  screen 

To  temper  ^  the  deceitful  ray : 
And,  O  !  where  stoops  on  Judah's  path 

In  shade  and  storm  the  frequent  night, 
Be  Thou  long-suffering,  slow  to  wrath, 

A  burning  and  a  shining  light ! 

4.  Our  harps  we  left  by  Babel's  streams,* 

The  tyrant's  jest,  the  Gentile's^  scorn; 
No  censer^  round  our  altar  beams, 

And  mute  are  timbrel,  ti-ump,  and  horn. 
But  Thou  hast  said,  the  blood  of  goat, 

The  flesh  of  rams  I  will  not  prize, 
A  contrite^  heart,  a  humble  thought, 

Are  mine  accepted  sacrifice. 


1  IEho'ral.  Sung'  by  a  choir,  or  by 
many  persons  together. 

8  TIm'brel.  An  ancient  Hebrew 
drum,  consisting  of  a  brass  hoop, 
over  which  a  piece  of  skin  was 
stretched. 

*  Zi'pN.  A  hill  in  Jerusalem  ;  a  figu- 
rative term  for  Jerusalem. 


*  PQR-TfiNTS'.    Omens  of  commg  ill. 

5  TEm'per.    Soften  or  moderate. 

6  ^fiN'TiLE.      The  name  applied   by 

Jews  to  foreign  nations. 

7  Cen'ser.    a  vessel  in  which  incense 

is  burned. 

8  Con'trIte.    Repentant ;  oppressed 

by  a  sense  of  sin  ;  penitent. 


•  Babel's  Stream.    The  River  Euphrates,  on  which  Babylon  was  situated. 


124  THE   FIFTH   READER.  ▼ 

XXIV.  — THE  SOLDIER'S  DREAM. 

Campbell. 

[Thomas  Campbell  was  born  in  Glasgow,  July  27, 1777,  and  died  in  Bonlogne 
(bS-louO)  France,  June  15, 1844.  His  first  poem, "  Tlie  Pleasures  of  Hope,"  was 
published  in  1799,  and  was  universally  read  and  admired.  His  "  Gertrude  of  Wy- 
oming" was  published  in  1809,  and  was  received  with  equal  favor.  It  contains 
passages  of  great  descriptive  beauty,  and  the  concluding  portions  are  full  of 
pathos ;  but  the  story  moves  languidly,  and  there  is  a  want  of  truth  in  tho 
costume,  and  of  probability  in  the  incidents.  His  genius  is  seen  to  greater 
advantage  in  his  shorter  poems,  such  as  "O'Connor's  Child,"  "  Lochiel  s 
Warning,"  "  Hohenlinden,"  "  The  Battle  of  the  Baltic,"  and  "  Ye  Mariners  of 
England."  These  are  matchless  poems,  —  with  a  ring  and  power  tliat  stir  the 
blood,  and  at  the  same  time  a  magic  of  expression  which  fastens  the  words 
forever  to  the  memory.] 

1.  OuB bugles^  sang  truce ';  forthe  nightcloudhad  lowered ', 

And  the  sentinel "  stars  set  their  watch  in  the  sky, 
And  thousands  liad  sunk  on  the  ground  overpowered, 
The  weary  to  sleep,  and  the  wounded  to  die. 

2.  When  reposing  that  niglit  on  my  pallet*  of  straw. 

By  the  wolf-scaring  fagot  that  guarded  the  slain, 
At  the  dead  of  the  night  a  sweet  vision  I  saw, 
And  thrice,  ere  the  morning,  I  dreamt  it  again. 

3.  Methought  from  the  battle-field's  dreadful  array, 

Far,  far  I  had  roamed  on  a  desolate  track ; 
'Twas  autumn,  and  sunshine  arose  on  the  way 
To  the  home  of  my  fathers  that  welcomed  me  back. 

4.  I  flew  to  the  pleasant  fields  traversed  so  oft 

In  life's  morning  march,  when  my  bosom  was  young; 
I  heard  my  own  mountain-goats  bleating  aloft, 
And  knew  the  sweet  strain  that  the  corn  reapers  sung. 

5.  Then  pledged  we  the  wine  cup,  and  fondly  I  swore 

From  my  home  and  my  weeping  friends  never  to  part> 
My  little  ones  kissed  me  a  thousand  times  o'er. 
And  my  wife  sobbed  aloud  in  her  fulness  of  heart. 


THE   FIFTH  READER. 


125 


6.  "  Stay,  stay  with  us  —  rest !  thou  art  weary  and  worn ; 
And  fain  ^  was  their  war-broken  soldier  to  stay  ; 
But  sorrow  returned  with  the  dawning  of  morn, 
And  the  voice  in  my  dreaming  ear  melted  away. 


J  BtJ'GLE.  A  military  wind  instru- 
ment of  music. 

a  TrOce.  a  temporary  suspension  of 
hostilities. 

•  Lo^'^RED.  Appeared  dark ;  gloomy. 


SfiN'Ti-NiiL.  A  soldier  on  watch  or 
guard,  and  thus  figuratively  applied 
to  the  stars. 

PAl'let.    a  small  or  rude  bed. 

Fain.    Willing  j  glad  i  desirous. 


XXV.  —  WASHINGTON. 

Henry  Lee. 

[Henry  Lee  was  bom  in  Westmoreland  county,  Virginia,  January  29, 1750,  and 
died  March  25,  1816.  He  served  witli  great  distinction  as  a  cavalry  officer  dur 
ing  the  revolutionary  war,  and  was  afterwards  member  of  Congress  and  gov- 
ernor of  Virginia.  He  was  the  author  of  "  Memoirs  of  the  War  in  the 
Southern  Department  of  the  United  States."  He  was  a  member  of  Congress 
at  the  time  of  the  death  of  Washington,  and  was  selected  by  the  House  of 
llcpresentatives  to  pronounce  a  eulorry  upon  the  departed  hero  and  statesman, 
from  which  the  following  is  an  extract.] 

1.  FiKST  in  war,  first  in  peace,  and  first  in  the  hearts  of 
his  countrymen,  he  was  second  to  none  in  the  humble  and 
endearing  scenes  of  private  life.  Pious,  just,  humane, 
temperate,  and  sincere ;  uniform,  dignified,  and  command- 
ing, his  example  was  as  edifying'  to  all  around  him  as 
were  the  effects  of  that  example  lasting. 

2.  To  his  equals  he  was  condescending ;  to  his  inferiors 
kind;  and  to  the  dear  object  of  his  affections  exemplarily '* 
tender.  Correct  throughout,  vice  shuddered  in  his  pi-esencc, 
and  virtue  always  felt  his  fostering  hand ;  the  purity  of  his 
private  character  gave  effulgence  to  his  public  virtues. 

3.  His  last  scene  comported  ^  with  the  whole  tenor  of  his 
life:  although  in  extreme  pain,  not  a  sigh,  not  a  groan 
escaped  him ;  and  with  undisturbed  serenity  he  closed  his 
well-spent  life.  Such  was  the  man  America  has  lost! 
Such  was  the  man  for  whom  our  nation  mourns ! 

11* 


126 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


4.  Methinks  I  see  his  august  image,  and  hear,  falling 
from  his  venerable  lips,  these  deep-sinking  words :  "  Cease, 
sons  of  America,  lamenting  our  separation :  go  on,  and 
confirm  by  your  wisdom  the  fruits  of  our  joint  counsels, 
joint  efforts,  and  common  dangers.  Reverence  religion; 
diffuse  knowledge  throughout  your  land;  patronize  the 
arts  and  sciences*;  let  liberty  and  order  be  inseparable 
companions ;  control  party  spirit,  the  bane  of  free  govern- 
ment ;  observe  good  faith  to,  and  cultivate  peace  with,  all 
nations;  shut  up  every  avenue  to  foreign  influence;  con- 
tract rather  than  extend  national  connection;  rely  on 
yourselves  only  ;  be  American  in  thought  and  deed.  Thus 
will  you  give  immortality  to  that  Union,  which  was  the 
constant  object  of  my  terrestrial  *  labors.  Thus  will  you 
preserve,  undisturbed  to  the  latest  posterity,  the  felicity  ^  of 
a  people  to  me  most  dear:  and  thus  will  you  supply  (if 
my  happiness  is  now  aught  to  you)  the  only  vacancy  in 
the  round  of  pure  bliss  high  Heaven  bestows." 


1  Ed'i-fy-ino.  Tending  to  improve  by 
instruction ;  instructive. 

s  E)f:'EM-PLA-Rf-LY.  In  such  a  way  as 
to  be  an  example  to  others. 

«  Cpm-p5rt'ed.  Was  suitable  ;  ac- 
corded. 

*  Xets  and   8?I'5N-c?§.     The  term 


arts  is  understood  to  mean,  the 
practical  application  of  knowledge 
to  the  uses  of  life ;  the  term  sci- 
ences, the  various  departments  of 
learning  and  knowledge. 

6  Ter-r£s'tri-al.    Earthly. 

6  FE-Ll9'j-TY.    Happiness. 


XXVI.  — COUSIN  DEBORAH'S   LEGACY. 


Chambers's  Journal. 

1.  Cousin  Deborah  was  an  old,  unmarried  lady,  who 
had  no  other  property  than  a  moderate  life  annuity  ^  The 
furniture  of  her  house  was  faded  and  antique ;  the  linen 
was  well  darned  ;  the  plate  was  scanty,  and  worn  thin  with 
use  and  frequent  scouring ;  the  books  were  few,  and  in  no 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  127 

very  good  condition.  She  had  no  jewels  or  trinkets  ;  her 
days  were  passed  in  a  dreary  state  of  tranquillity,  stitching, 
stitching,  stitching  forever,  with  her  beloved  huge  work- 
box  at  her  elbow.  That  wanted  nothing ;  for  it  was  abun- 
dantly fitted  ujD  with  worsted,  cotton,  tape,  buttons,  bod- 
kins, needles,  and  such  a  multiplicity  of  reels  and  balls  that 
to  enumerate  them  would  be  a  tedious  task. 

2.  Cousin  Deborah  particularly  prided  herself  on  her 
darning;  carpets,  house  linen,  stockings,  all  bore  unim- 
peachable testimony  to  this  branch  of  industry.  Holes 
and  thin  places  were  hailed  with  delight  by  her;  and  it 
was  whispered  —  but  that  might  be  a  mere  matter  of 
scandal  —  that  she  even  went  so  far  as  to  cut  holes  m  her 
best  table  cloths  for  the  purpose  of  exercising  her  skill  and 
ingenuity  in  repairing  the  fractures.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
tiie  work-box  was  as  much  a  companion  to  her  as  dogs  or 
cats  are  to  many  other  single  ladies.  She  was  lost  without 
it :  her  conversation  always  turned  on  the  subject  of  thread 
papers  and  needle  cases;  and  never  was  darning  cotton 
more  scientifically  rolled  into  neat  balls,  than  by  the  taper 
fingers  of  Cousin  Deborah. 

3.  The  contents  of  that  wonderful  work-box  would 
have  furnished  a  small  shop.  As  a  child,  I  always  re- 
garded it  with  a  species  of  awe  and  veneration ;  and 
without  daring  to  lay  a  finger  on  the  treasure's  it  con- 
tained, my  prying  eyes  greedily  devoured  its  mysteries, 
when  the  raised  edge  revealed  its  mountains  of  cotton 
and  forests  of  pins  and  needles.  And  I  have  no  doubt 
that  Cousin  Deborah  first  regarded  me  with  favor  in  con- 
sequence of  being  asked  by  my  mother  to  give  me  a  lesson 
in  darning  —  a  most  necessary  accomplishment  in  our 
family,  as  I  was  the  eldest  of  many  brothers  and  sisters; 
and,  though  very  happy  among  ourselves,  the  circum- 
stances of  our  dear  parents  rendered  the  strictest  industry 
and  frugality  absolutely  indispensable  in  order  to  mako 
*'  both  ends  meet." 


128  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

4  She  was  proud  of  me,  on  the  whole,  as  a  pupil, 
though  she  sometimes  had  occasion  to  reprove  me  for 
idleness  and  skipping  stitches ;  and  between  us,  it  is  impos- 
sible to  say  how  many  pairs  of  stockings  we  made  whole 
in  the  course  of  the  year.  Many  a  time  I  was  invited  by 
Cousin  Deborah  to  take  tea  with  her,  and  bring  my  work- 
bag  in  my  hand,  as  a  matter  of  course ;  and  we  used  to 
sit  for  long  hours  without  speaking,  intent  on  our  needles, 
the  silence  unbroken  save  by  the  ticking  of  the  eight-day 
clock. 

5.  I  sometimes  found  it  very  dull  work,  I  confess.  Not 
so  Cousin  Deborah.  She  needed  no  other  society  than 
that  of  her  work-box ;  and  I  do  not  believe  she  loved  any 
human  being  so  well.  Her  whole  heart  was  in  it ;  and  the 
attachment  she  evinced  towards  me,  as  time  went  on, 
was  fostered  and  encouraged  by  our  mutual  zeal  in  per- 
forming tasks  of  needle-work.  Not  that  I  shared  in  her 
devotion:  Zwas  actuated  by  a  sense  of  duty  alone,  and 
would  far  rather,  could  I  have  done  so  conscientiously, 
have  been  dancing  and  laughing  with  companions  of  my 
own  age.  But  ply  the  needle  I  did,  and  so  did  Cousin 
Deborah ;  and  we  two  became,  with  the  huge  old  work- 
box  between  us,  quite  a  pair  of  loving  friends;  and  at 
least  two  evenings  in  every  week  I  went  to  sit  with  the 
lone  woman.  She  would  have  had  me  do  so  every  evening ; 
but,  though  there  were  so  many  of  us  at  home,  our  parents 
could  not  bear  to  spare  any  of  us  out  of  their  sight  oftener 
than  they  deemed  indispensable. 

6.  At  length  Cousin  Deborah's  quiet  and  blameless  life 
came  to  an  end.  Having  shut  her  work-box,  locked  it, 
and  put  the  key  in  a  sealed  packet,  she  turned  her  face  to 
the  wall,  and  fell  asleep. 

7.  When  her  will  was  opened,  it  was  found  that  she  had 
left  her  books,  furniture,  and  plate  to  a  family  that  stood 
in  the  same  relationship  to  her  as  we  did,  but  who  were  in 


THE   FIFTH  READER.  129 

much,  more  prosperous  circumstances  than  we.  To  me 
she  devised  ^  the  huge  old  work-box,  with  all  its  contents, 
"in  token  of  the  high  esteem  and  affection  with  which  I 
was  regarded"  by  the  deceased.  I  was  to  inherit  tlie 
well-stored  work-box,  only  on  condition  that  it  was  to  be 
daily  used  by  me  in  preference  to  all  others.  "  Every  ball 
of  darning  cotton,  as  it  diminishes,  shall  bring  its  blessing," 
said  Cousin  Deborah ;  "  for  Ada  Benwell "  (that  was  my 
name)  "  is  a  good  girl,  and  has  darned  more  holes  in  the 
stockings  of  her  little  brothers  and  sisters  than  any  other 
girl  of  her  age.  Therefore,  I  particularly  commend  the 
balls  of  darning  cotton  to  her  notice ;  and  I  particularly 
recommend  her  to  use  them  up  as  soon  as  she  can,  and  she 
will  meet  with  her  reward  in  due  season." 

8.  My  mother  was  a  little  disappointed  at  the  contents 
of  our  kinswoman's'  will,  and  expressed  her  displeasure  in 
a  few  sharp  remarks,  for  which  my  father  gently  reproved 
her.  The  subject  of  the  legacies'*  was  never  again  dis^ 
cussed  by  us.  The  work-box  was  in  constant  requisition 
at  my  side,  and  the  balls  of  darning  cotton  rapidly  dimin- 
ished. One  day,  as  I  was  sitting  beside  my  mother  busy 
with  my  needle,  she  remarked,  "  You  have  followed  our 
poor  cousin's  directions,  my  dear  Ada.  She  particularly 
recommended  you  to  use  up  the  balls  of  darning  cotton  as 
soon  as  possible ;  and  look,  there  is  one  just  done." 

9.  As  my  mother  spoke,  I  unrolled  a  long  needleful, 
and  came  to  the  end  of  that  ball.  A  piece  of  paper  fell 
to  the  ground,  which  had  been  the  nucleus*  on  which  the 
ball  was  formed.  I  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  and  was  just 
about  throwing  it  into  the  fire,  when  it  caught  my  mother's 
eye,  and  she  stretched  out  her  hand  and  seized  it.  In  a 
moment  she  unfolded  it  before  our  astonished  gaze :  it  waa 
a  bank  note  of  fifty  pounds ! 

10.  "O,  dear,  misjudged  Cousin  Deborah!"  she  ex- 
claimed; '■'•this  is  our  Ada's  reward  in  due  season.  It's 
just  like  her  —  kind,  queer  old  soul.'" 


130  THE   FIFTH  READER. 

11.  We  were  not  long  in  using  up  all  the  other  balls  ot 
darning  cotton  in  that  marvellous  work-box ;  and  such  a 
reward  as  I  found  for  my  industry  sure  never  was  met 
with  before  or  since.  Truly,  it  was  a  fairy  box,  and  my 
needle  the  fairy's  wand. 

12.  No  less  than  ten  fifty-pound^  notes  were  thus  brought 
to  light ;  and  my  father  laughingly  declared  I  had  wrought 
my  own  dower'  with  my  needle.  No  persuasions  could 
induce  him  to  appropriate  the  treasure ;  he  said  it  was  my 
"  reward,"  and  belonged  to  me  alone. 


1  ^N-NC'}-Ty.     A  sum  of  money  paid 

yearly. 

2  De-vI§ed',    Gave  by  a  will. 

»  KtN§'wOiM-AN  (-wum-9n).    A  female 

relative, 
i  LEG'A-cy.    A  gift  of  money  or  goods 

by  a  will. 
6  NiJ'CL?-vs.    The  central  part  of  a 


body,  or  that  around  which  matter 
is  collected. 

8  PoOnd.  A  money  of  account  used 
in  England,  equivalent  to  about 
four  dollars  and  eighty-four  cents. 

T  Do^'ER.  The  portion  or  property 
which  a  woman  brings  her  hus- 
band in  marriage  j  dowry. 


XXVIL  — THE   THREE  MIGHTY. 

New  Monthly  Magazine. 

[The  incidents  on  which  these  lines  are  founded  is  related  in  the  twenty-third 
chapter  of  the  Second  Book  of  Samuel,  and  also  in  the  eleventh  chapter  of  the 
First  Book  of  Chronicles.] 

1.  Watchfires  are  blazing  on  hill  and  plain; 
The  noonday  light  is  restored  again ; 

There  are  shining  arms  in  Rephaim's  vale,  .. 

And  bright  is  the  glitter  of  clanging  mail.      ^|gj^-' 

2.  The  Philistine  hath  fixed  his  encampment  here ; 
Afar  stretch  his  lines  of  banner  and  spear. 

And  his  chariots  of  brass  are  ranged  side  by  side, 
And  his  war  steeds  neigh  loud  in  their  trappings '  of  pride 

S.  His  tents  are  placed  where  the  waters  flow ; 
The  sun  hath  dried  up  the  springs  below, 


THE   FIFTH  READER.  131 

And  Israel  hatli  neither  well  nor  pool, 
The  rage  of  her  soldiers'  thirst  to  cool. 

4.  In  the  cave  of  Adullam  King  David  lies, 
Overcome  with  the  glare  of  the  burning  skies; 
And  his  lip  is  parched,  and  his  tongue  is  dry, 
But  none  can  the  grateful  draught  supply. 

5.  Though  a  crowned  king,  in  that  painful  hour, 
One  flowing  cup  might  have  bought  his  power. 
What  worth,  in  the  fire  of  thirst,  could  be 
The  purple  pomp  of  his  sovereignty  ? 

6.  But  no  cooling  cup  from  river  or  spring, 
To  reUeve  his  want,  can  his  servants  bring ; 

And  he  cries,  "Are  there  none  in  my  train  or  state* 
Will  fetch  me  the  water  of  Bethlehem  gate  ?  " 

7.  Then  three  of  his  warriors,  "the  mighty  three," 
The  boast  of  the  monarch's  chivalry  ^, 

Uprose  in  their  strength,  and  their  bucklers  *  rang. 
As  with  eyes  of  flame  on  their  steeds  they  sprang. 

8.  On  their  steeds  they  sprang,  and  with  spurs  of  speed 
Rushed  forth  in  the  strength  of  a  noble  deed. 

And  dashed  on  the  foe  like  the  torrent  flood, 
Till  he  floated  away  in  a  tide  of  blood. 

9.  To  the  right — to  the  left — where  their  blue  swords 

shine, 
Like  autumn  corn  falls  the  Philistine ; 
And  sweeping  along  with  the  vengeance  of  fate. 
The  "  mighty  "  rush  onward  to  Bethlehem  gate. 

10.   Through  a  bloody  gap  in  his  shattered  array. 
To  Bethlehem's  well  they  have  hewn  their  way  j 


132 


THE   FIFTH  READER. 


Then  backward  they  turn  on  the  corse-covered  plain, 
And  charge  through  the  foe  to  their  monarch  again. 

11.  The  king  looks  at  the  cup,  but  the  crystal  draught, 
At  a  price  too  high  for  his  want,  hath  been  bought ; 
They  urge  him  to  drink,  but  he  wets  not  his  hp ; 
Though  great  is  his  need,  he  refuses  to  sip. 

12.  But  he  pours  it  forth  to  Heaven's  Majesty, 
He  poui's  it  forth  to  the  Lord  of  the  sky ; 

'Tis  a  draught  of  death  —  'tis  a  cup  blood-stained  — 
'Tis  a  prize  from  man's  suffering  and  agony  gained. 


13.  Should  he  taste  of  a  cup  that  h\.s  "  mighty  three  " 
Had  obtained  by  their  peril  and  jeopardy^? 
Should  he  drink  of  their  life  ?   'Twas  the  thought  of  a 

king; 
And  again  he  returned  to  his  suffering. 


1  TrXp'ping§.    Ornaments,  especially 

sucli  as  are   used    to  decorate  a 
horse. 

2  State.    Persons  forming  the  suite 

or  attendants  of  another. 


3  gHlv'AL-RY.    Body  of  knights  or  of 

brave  and  courteous  warriors. 

4  BDck'ler.    a  liind  of  shield  worn  OB 

the  left  arm. 

5  J£op'^R-DV.    Danger. 


XXVIIL —MARCO   BOZZARIS. 

IIALLECK. 

[Pitz-Greene  Halleck  was  born  in  Guilford,  Connecticut,  July,  1795.  Marco 
Bozzaris  (bot-sJlr'is  or  bot'B?-ris),  one  of  the  most  admired  of  his  pooms,  was 
first  published  in  1827,  in  a  small  volume  of  poems,  most  of  winch  had  previ- 
ously appeared  in  a  fugitive  form.  '  Bozzaris  was  one  of  the  martyrs  in  the 
cause  of  the  independence  of  Greece.  lie  fell  in  a  night  attack  upon  the  camf 
of  the  Turks,  August,  1823,  near  the  site  of  the  old  battle-field  of  Plataja..] 

1.   At  midnight,  in  his  guarded  tent, 

The  Turk  was  dreaming  of  the  hour 
When  Greece,  her  knee  in  suppliance '  bent, 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  133 

Should  tremble  at  his  power : 
In  dreams  through  camp  and  court  he  bore 
The  trophies^  of  a  conqueror; 

In  dreams  his  song  of  triumph  heard ; 
Then  wore  his  monarch's  signet^  ring, — 
Then  pressed  that  monarch's  throne,  —  a  king; 
As  wild  his  thoughts,  and  gay  of  wing, 

As  Eden's  garden  bird. 

2.  At  midnight,  in  the  forest  shades,  * 

Bozzaris  ranged  his  Suliote'*  band. 
True  as  the  steel  of  their  tried  blades, 

Heroes  in  heart  and  hand. 
There  had  the  Persian  thousands  stood. 
There  had  the  glad  earth  drunk  their  blood. 

On  old  Plataea's  day ; 
And  now  there  breathed  that  haunted  air 
The  sons  of  sires  who  conquered  there, 
With  arm  to  strike,  and  soul  to  dare, 

As  quick,  as  far,  as  they. 

3.  An  hour  passed  on,  —  the  Turk  awoke; 

That  bright  dream  was  his  last ; 
He  woke,  to  hear  his  sentries  shriek  — 
«  To  arms !  —  they  come !  —  The  Greek !  the  Greek ! " 
He  woke,  to  die  midst  flame  and  smoke, 
And  shout,  and  groan,  and  sabre  stroke, 

And  death-shots  falling  thick  and  fast 
As  lightnings  from  the  mountain  cloud ; 
And  heard,  with  voice  as  trumpet  loud, 

Bozzaris  cheer  his  band  — 
"Strike  —  till  the  last  armed  foe  expires! 
Strike  —  for  your  altars  and  your  fires ! 
Strike  —  for  the  green  graves  of  your  sires  I 

God,  and  your  native  land  !" 
12 


134  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

4.  They  fought,  like  brave  men,  long  and  well ; 

They  piled  the  ground  with  Moslem'*  slain: 
They  conquered ;  but  Bozzaris  fell, 

Bleeding  at  every  vein. 
His  few  surviving  comrades  saw 
His  smile,  when  rang  their  proud  hurrah, 

And  the  red  field  was  won ; 
Then  saw  in  death  his  eyelids  close,- 
Calmly,  as  to  a  night's  repose, 

Like  flowers  at  set  of  sun. 

6.  Come  to  the  bridal  chamber.  Death ! 

Come  to  the  mother's,  when  she  feels 
For  the  first  time  her  first-born's  breath; 

Come  when  the  blessed  seals 
That  close  the  pestilence  are  broke, 
And  crowded  cities  wail  its  stroke ; 
Come  in  Consumption's  ghastly  form, 
The  earthquake  shock,  the  ocean  storm ; 
Come  when  the  heart  beats  high  and  warm, 

With  banquet  song,  and  dance,  and  wine,— 
And  thou  art  terrible :  the  tear. 
The  groan,  the  knell,  the  pall,  the  bier. 
And  all  we  know,  or  dream,  or  fear, 

Of  agony,  are  thine. 

6.  But  to  the  hero,  when  his  sword 

Has  won  the  battle  for  the  free, 
Thy  voice  sounds  like  a  prophet's  word, 
And  in  its  hollow  tones  are  heard 

The  thanks  of  millions  yet  to  be. 
Bozzaris  !  with  the  storied  **  brave 

Greece  nurtured  in  her  glory's  time, 
Rest  thee :  there  is  no  prouder  grave, 

Even  in  her  own  proud  clime. 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


135 


We  tell  thy  doom  without  a  sigh ; 
For  thou  art  Freedom's  now,  and  Fame's,  ■ 
One  of  the  few,  the  immortal  names, 

That  were  not  born  to  die ! 


1  BOp'pli-ance.      Supplication  ;    en- 
treaty ;  submission, 
s  Tr5'phie§.    Memorials  of  victory. 
V  SIg'net  rIng.    a  ring  containing  a 
signet  or  seal  of  authority. 


i  SO'Li-OTK.  An  inhabitant  of  Suli,  a 
mountainous  district  of  Greece. 

5  Mos'LEM.    Mussulmen;  Turks. 

9  St5'ried.  Celebrated  or  mentioned 
in  story. 


XXIX.  — THE  HARD-HEARTED   RICH  MAN. 

New  Monthly  3Iagazine. 

1.  Old  Jacob  Stock !  The  chimes  of  the  clock  were 
not  more  punctual  in  proclaiming  the  progress  of  time, 
than  in  marking  the  regularity  of  his  visits  at  the  temples 
of  Plutus*  in  Threadneedle  Street  and  Bartholomew 
Lane.  His  devotion  to  them  was  exemplary.  In  vain  the 
wind  and  the  rain,  the  hail  and  the  sleet,  battled  against 
his  rugged  front.  Not  the  slippery  ice,  nor  the  thick- 
falling  snow,  nor  the  whole  artillery  of  elementary '^  warfare, 
could  check  the  plodding  perseverance  of  the  man  of  the 
World,  or  tempt  him  to  lose  the  chance  which  the  morning, 
however  unpropitious  it  seemed  in  its  external  aspect, 
might  yield  him  of  profiting  by  the  turn  of  a  fraction. 

2.  He  was  a  stout-built,  round-shouldered,  squab-looking^ 
man,  of  a  bearish  aspect.  His  features  were  hard,  and  his 
heart  was  harder.  You  could  read  the  interest-table  in  the 
wrinkles  of  his  brow,  trace  the  rise  and  fall  of  stocks  *  by 
the  look  of  his  countenance,  while  avarice,  selfishness, 
and  money-getting  glared  from  his  gray,  glassy  eye. 
Nature  had  poured  no  balm  into  his  breast,  nor  was  his 
"  gross  and  earthly  mould  "  susceptible  of  pity.  A  single 
look  of  his  would  daunt  the  most  importunate  petitioner 


J. 36  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

that  ever  attempted  to  extract  hard  coin  by  the  soft  rhet- 
oric of  a  heart-moving  tale. 

3.  The  wife  of  one  whom  he  had  known  in  better  days 
pleaded  before  him  for  her  sick  husband  and  famishing 
infants.  Jacob,  on  occasions  like  these,  was  a  man  of  few 
words.  He  was  as  chary  ^  of  them  as  of  his  money,  and 
he  let  her  come  to  the  end  of  her  tale  without  interrup- 
tion. She  paused  for  a  reply,  but  he  gave  none.  "  Indeed, 
he  is  very  ill,  sir."  "  Can't  help  it."  "  We  are  very  dis- 
tressed."    "  Can't  help  it."     "  Our  poor  children,  too ." 

«  Can't  help  that    either." 

4.  The  petitioner's  eye  looked  a  mournful  reproach, 
which  would  have  interpreted  itself  to  any  other  heart  but 
his,  "Indeed,  you  can;"  but  she  was  silent.  Jacob  felt 
more  awkwardly  than  he  had  ever  done  in  his  life.  His 
hand  involuntarily  scrambled  about  his  breeches'  pocket. 
There  was  something  like  the  weakness  of  human  nature 
stirring  within  him.  Some  coin  had  unconsciously  worked 
its  way  into  his  hand  —  his  fingers  insensibly  closed ;  but 
the  eflfort  to  draw  them  forth,  and  the  impossibility  of 
effecting  it  without  unclosing  them,  roused  the  dormant* 
selfishness  of  his  nature,  and  restored  his  self-possession. 

5.  "  He  has  been  very  extravagant."  "  Ah,  sir,  he  has 
been  very  unfortunate,  not  extravagant."  "Unfortunate! 
Ah,  it's  the  same  thing.  Little  odds,  I  fancy.  For  my 
part,  I  wonder  how  folks  can  be  unfortunate.  7" was  never 
unfortunate.  Nobody  need  be  unfortunate  if  they  look 
after  the  main  chance.^  I  always  looked  after  the  main 
chance."  "He  has  had  a  large  family  to  maintain." 
"Ah,  man-ied  foolishly!  no  offence  to  you,  ma'am. 
But  when  poor  folks  marry  poor  folks,  what  are  they 
to  look  for,  you  know?  Besides,  he  was  so  foolishly 
fond  of  assisting  others.  If  a  friend  was  sick,  or  in  jail, 
out  came  his  purse,  and  then  his  creditors  might  go 
whistle.  Now,  if  he  had  married  a  woman  with  money, 
you  know,  why  then " 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


137 


6.  The  supplicant  turned  pale,  and  was  near  fainting. 
Jacob  was  alarmed;  not  that  he  sympathized,  but  a 
woman's  fainting  was  a  scene  that  he  had  not  been  used 
to :  besides,  there  was  an  awkwardness  about  it ;  for  Jacob 
was  a  bachelor. 

7.  Sixty  summers  had  passed  over  his  head  without 
imparting  a  ray  of  warmth  to  his  heart ;  without  exciting 
one  tender  feeling  for  the  sex,  deprived  of  whose  cheering 
presence  the  paradise  of  the  world  were  a  wilderness  of 
weeds.  So  he  desperately  extracted  a  crown  piece  from 
the  depth  profound,  and  thrust  it  hastily  into  her  hand. 
The  action  recalled  her  wandering  senses.  She  blushed  — - 
it  was  the  honest  blush  of  pride  at  the  meanness  of  the 
gift.  She  courtesied ;  staggered  towards  the  door ;.  opened 
it ;  closed  it ;  raised  her  hand  to  her  forehead^  and  burst 
into  tears.     ... 


1  PlO'tvs.    The  god  of  wealth  among 

the  ancient  Greeks. 

2  £L-E-MfiNT'A-RY.      Relating  to   or 

explaining  elements  or  first  princi- 
ples ;  here,  of  or  belonging  to  one 
or  more  of  the  four  elements,  earth, 
air,  water,  fire. 
8  BquAb-look'ing  (luk).  Short  and 
thlck- 


4  St6cks.  Property  or  shares  in  a 
national  or  other  public  debt ;  alsoy 
shares  in  a  corporation,  such  as  a 
railroad  company,  a  bank,  &c. 

6  ChAr.'v.    Sparing;  careful. 

6  Dor'mant.    Slumbering;  sleeping; 

suspended. 

7  Main    chAnce.      That  which  beet 

serves  one's  own  interest. 


XXX.  — THE  BOBOLINK. 

Irving. 

[Washington  Irving,  author  of  "  The  Sketch  Book,"  "  Bracebridge  Hall," 
"Astoria,"  "Life  of  Columbus,"  "Life  of  Washington,"  and  various  other 
well-known  works,  was  born  in  the  city  of  New  York,  April  8,  1783,  and  died 
November  28, 1859.  Of  all  our  writers,  no  one  is  so  generally  popular ;  and  the 
universal  favor  witli  which  his  works  are  received  is  due,  not  merely  to  their 
great  literary  merits,  their  graceful  style,  rich  humor,  and  unaffected  pathos, 
but  also  to  tiie  fact  that  they  are  so  strongly  marked  by  the  genial  and  amia- 
ble traits  of  the  writer,  Avhicli  were  conspicuous  in  his  life,  and  made  him  be- 
loved by  all  who  knew  him. 

The  following  extract  is  taken  from  '•  Wolfert's  Koost,"  one  of  his  late  pu!>- 
12* 


138  THE   FIFTH  READER. 

lications,  consisting^  of  narratives,  essays,  and  sketches,  most  of  which  origi- 
nally  appeared  in  the  Knickerbocker  Magazine.] 

1.  The  happiest  bird  of  our  spring,  however,  and  one 
that  rivals  the  European  lark  in  my  estimation,  is  the  bob- 
lincon,  or  bobolink,  as  he  is  commonly  called.  He  arrives 
at  that  choice  portion  of  our  year  which,  in  this  latitude, 
answers  to  the  description  of  the  month  of  May,  so  often 
given  by  the  poets. 

2.  With  us  it  begins  about  the  middle  of  May,  and  lasts 
until  nearly  the  middle  of  June.  Earlier  than  this,  winter 
is  apt  to  return  on  its  traces,  and  to  blight  the  opening 
beauties  of  the  year ;  and  later  than  this,  begin  the  parch- 
ing, and  panting,  and  dissolving  heats  of  summer.  But  in 
this  genial  interval  Nature  is  in  all  her  freshness  and 
fragrance:  "the  rains  are  over  and  gone,  the  flowers 
appear  upon  the  earth,  the  time  of  the  singing  of  birds  is 
come,  and  the  voice  of  the  turtle^  is  heard  in  the  land." 

3.  The  trees  are  now  in  their  fullest  foliage  and  brightest 
verdure  ;  the  woods  are  gay  with  the  clustered  flowers  of 
the  laurel ;  the  air  is  perfumed  by  the  sweet-brier  and  the 
wild  rose;  the  meadows  are  enamelled^  with  clover  blos- 
soms; while  the  young  apple,  the  peach,  and  the  plum 
begin  to  swell,  and  the  cherry  to  glow  among  the  green 
leaves. 

4.  This  is  the  chosen  season  of  revelry'  of  the  bobolink. 
He  comes  amidst  the  pomp  and  fragrance  of  the  season  ; 
his  life  seems  all  sensibility  and  enjoyment,  all  song  and 
sunshine.  He  is  to  be  found  in  the  soft  bosoms  of  the 
freshest  and  sweetest  meadows,  and  is  most  in  song  when 
the  clover  is  in  blossom.  He  perches  on  the  topmost  twig 
of  a  tree,  or  on  some  long,  flaunting  weed,  and  as  he  rises 
and  sinks  with  the  breeze,  pours  forth  a  succession  of  rich, 
tinkling  notes,  crowding  one  upon  another,  like  the  out- 
pouring melody  of  the  sky-lark,  and  possessing  the  same 
rapturous  character. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  139 

5.  Sometimes  he  pitches  from  the  summit  of  a  tree, 
begins  his  song  as  soon  as  he  gets  upon  the  wing,  and 
flutters  tremulously  down  to  the  earth,  as  if  overcome 
with  ecstasy  at  his  own  music.  Sometimes  he  is  in  pur- 
suit of  his  mate ;  always  in  full  song,  as  if  he  would  win 
her  by  his  melody ;  and  always  with  the  sam#  appearance 
of  intoxication  and  delight. 

6.  Of  all  the  birds  of  our  groves  and  meadows  the 
bobolink  was  the  envy  of  my  boyhood.  He  crossed  my 
path  in  the  sweetest  weather,  and  the  sweetest  season  of 
the  year,  when  all  nature  called  to  the  fields,  and  the  rural 
feeling  throbbed  in  every  bosom ;  but  when  I,  luckless 
urchin !  was  doomed  to  be  mewed  up,  during  the  livelong 
day,  in  a  school  room.  It  seemed  as  if  the  little  varlet* 
mocked  at  me  as  he  flew  by  in  full  song,  and  sought  to 
taunt  me  with  his  happier  lot. 

7.  O,  how  I  envied  him !  No  lessons,  no  task,  no  school ; 
nothing  but  holiday,  frolic,  green  fields,  and  fine  weather. 
Had  I  been  then  fnore  versed  in  poetry,  I  might  have 
addressed  him  in  the  words  of  Logan  to  the  cuckoo ;  — 

"  Sweet  bird,  thy  bower  is  ever  green; 
Thy  slcy  is  ever  clear  ; 
Thou  liast  no  sorrow  in  thy  song, 
No  winter  in  thy  year. 

«  O,  could  I  fly,  I'd  fly  with  thee; 
We'd  make,  on  joyful  wing, 
Our  annual  visit  round  the  globe. 
Companions  of  the  spring." 

8.  Further  observation  and  experience  have  given  me  a 
different  idea  of  this  feathered  voluptuary",  which  I  will 
venture  to  impart  for  the  benefit  of  my  young  readers 
who  may  regard  him  with  the  same  unqualified  envy  and 
admiration  which  I  once  indulged.  I  have  shown  him 
only  as  I  saw  him  at  first,  in  what  I  may  call  the  poetical 
part  of  his  career,  when  he  in  a  manner  devoted  himself 


140  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

to  elegant  pursuits  and  enjoyments,  and  was  a  bird  of 
music,  and  song,  and  taste,  and  sensibility,  and  refinement. 
While  this  lasted  he  was  sacred  from  injury;  the  very 
schoolboy  would  not  fling  a  stone  at  him,  and  the  merest 
rustic^  would  pause  to  listen  to  his  strain. 

9.  But  Aark  the  difference.  As  the  year  advances,  as 
the  clover-blossoms  disappear,  and  the  spring  fades  into 
summer,  he  gradually  gives  up  his  elegant  tastes  and 
habits,  doffs'  his  poetical  suit  of  black,  assumes  a  russet^, 
dusty  garb,  and  sinks  to  the  gross  enjoyments  of  common, 
vulgar  birds.  His  notes  no  longer  vibrate  on  the  ear ;  he 
is  stuffing  himself  with  the  seeds  of  the  tall  weeds  on 
which  he  lately  swung  and  chanted  so  melodiously.  He 
has  become  a  "  bon-vivant  V'  a  "  gourmand  *° " ;  with  him, 
now,  there  is  nothing  like  the  "joys  of  the  table."  In  a 
little  while  he  grows  tired  of  i^lain,  homely  fare,  and  is  off* 
on  a  gastronomical"  tour  in  quest  of  foreign  luxuries. 

10.  We  next  hear  of  him,  with  myriads  of  his  kind, 
banqueting  among  the  reeds  of  the  Delaware,  and  grown 
corpulent  ^^  with  good  feeding.  He  has  changed  his  name 
in  travelling.  Boblincon  no  more  —  he  is  the  reed-bird 
now,  the  much-sought-for  tidbit  of  Pennsylvania  epicures  ^\ 
the  rival  in  unlucky  fame  of  the  ortolan !  Wherever  he 
goes,  pop !  pop !  pop !  every  rusty  firelock  "  in  the  country 
is  blazing  away.  He  sees  his  companions  falling  by  thou- 
sands around  him. 

11.  Does  he  take  warning  and  reform  ?  Alas !  not  he. 
Incorrigible**  epicure  !  again  he  wings  his  flight.  The  rice 
swamps  of  the  South  invite  him.  He  gorges  himself 
among  them  almost  to  bursting;  he  can  scarcely  fly  for 
corpulency.  He  has  once  more  changed  his  name,  and  is 
now  the  famous  rice-bird  of  the  Carolinas.  liust  stage  of 
his  career:  behold  him  spitted,  with  dozens  of  his  corpu- 
lent companions,  and  served  up,  a  vaunted  dish,  on  the 
table  of  some  southern  gastronome. 


THE    FIFTH   KEADER. 


141 


12.  Such  is  the  story  of  the  bobolink  —  once  spiritual, 
musical,  admired,  the  joy  of  the  meadows,  and  the  favorite 
bird  of  spring ;  finally,  a  gross  little  sensualist,  who  expiates 
his  sensuality  in  the  larder.  His  story  contains  a  moral 
worthy  the  attention  of  all  little  birds  and  little  boys ; 
wai-ning  them  to  keep  to  those  refined  and  intellectual 
pursuits  which  raised  him  to  so  high  a  pitch  of  popularity 
during  the  early  part  of  his  career,  but  to  eschcAV^^  all 
tendency  to  that  gross  and  dissipated  indulgence  which 
brought  this  mistaken  little  bird  to  an  untimely  end. 


1  TiJb'tlb.    The  turtle  dove. 

2  JE.v-Am'elled.    Overlaid  with  enam- 

el, or  adorned  so  as  to  resemble 
enamel;  variegated. 
»  Rfiv'EL,  RY.     Festivity  ;  jollity ;  ca- 
rousal. 

*  VXr'let.    a  servant  or  attendant; 

also,  a  rogue  ;  a  scapegrace. 

*  Vq-lCpt'v-a-ry.       One    given    to 

pleasure  and  indulgence. 

*  ROs'tic.    An  inhabitant  of  the  coun- 

try ;  a  peasant. 
1  Doffs.    Puts  off;  lays  aside. 
8  ECs's^x.    A  reddish-gray  color. 


9  BoN-riVANT      (bon(g)'ve-van(g)'). 
A  good  liver. 

10  Gour'aiand.    One  fond  of  good  eat 

ing ;  an  epicure. 

11  GXs-trq-nom'i-cal.      Relating  to 

good  living ;  gluttonous. 

12  Cor'pv-lEnt.    Fleshy  ;  fat. 

13  Ep'i-cure.    One  addicted  to  luxu- 

rious eating. 

14  Fire'lock.    a  gun. 

15  In-cor'ri-^i-ble.     That  cannot  be 

corrected. 

16  ?s-CHEW'  (es-chii').    Avoid  ;  ehun. 


XXXI.  — THE   CHAMELEON. 

Merrick. 

[James  Merrick,  the  author  of  this  popular  poem,  was  an  English  clergy 
man,  born  in  1720,  died  in  1768.] 


1.   Oft  has  it  been  my  lot  to  mark 
A  proud,  conceited,  talking  spark  \ 
With  eyes  that  hardly  served  at  most 
To  guard  their  master  'gainst  a  post ; 
Yet  round  the  world  the  blade  ^  has  been. 
To  see  whatever  could  be  seen. 


1-42  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

2.    Returning  from  his  finished  tour', 
Grown  ten  times  perter  than  before, 
Whatever  word  you  chance  to  drop. 
The  travelled  fool  your  mouth  will  stop : 
**  Sir,  if  my  judgment  you'll  allow  — 
I've  seen  —  and  sure  I  ought  to  know." 
So  begs  you'd  pay  a  due  submission, 
And  acquiesce''  in  his  decision. 

^,  Two  travellers  of  such  a  cast. 
As  o'er  Arabia's  wilds  they  passed. 
And  on  their  way,  in  friendly  chat. 
Now  talked  of  this,  and  then  of  that, 
Discoursed  a  while,  'mongst  other  matter, 
Of  the  chameleon's  °  form  and  nature, 

4.  ■•'  A  stranger  animal,"  cries  one, 

i  Sure  never  lived  beneath  the  sun ; 
A-  lizard's  body,  lean  and  long, 
A  fish's  head,  a  serpent's  tongue. 
Its  foot  with  triple  claw  disjoined®; 
And  what  a  length  of  tail  behind ! 
How  slow  its  pace !  and  then  its  hue  ^ 
Who  ever  saw  so  fine  a  blue ! "  — 

5.  "  Hold  there,"  the  other  quick  replies, 
« 'Tis  green ;  I  saw  it  with  these  eyes, 
As  late  with  open  mouth  it  lay. 
And  warmed  it  in  the  sunny  ray : 
Stretched  at  its  ease  the  beast  I  viewedj, 
And  saw  it  eat  the  air  for  food."  — 

6.  "  I've  seen  it,  sir,  as  well  as  you. 
And  must  again  affirm  it  blue ; 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  143: 

At  leisure  I  the  beast  surveyed 
Extended  in  the  cooling  shade." 

7.  "  'Tis  green,  'tis  green,  sir,  I  assure  ye." 
"Green  !  "  cries  the  other  in  a  fury : 

"  Why,  sir,  d'  ye  think  I've  lost  my  eyes  ?  " 
"  Twere  no  great  loss,"  the  friend  replies ; 
"  For  if  they  always  serve  you  thus, 
You'll  find  them  of  but  little  use." 

8.  So  high  at  last  the  contest  rose, 

From  words  they  almost  came  to  blowB : 
When,  luckily,  came  by  a  third ; 
To  him  the  question  they  referred. 
And  begged  he'd  tell  them,  if  he  knew, 
Whether  the  thing  was  green  or  blue. 

9.  "  Sirs,"  cries  the  umpire ', "  cease  your  pother® 
The  creature's  neither  one  nor  t'other, 

I  caught  the  animal  last  night. 
And  viewed  it  o'er  by  candle  light; 
I  marked  it  well ;  'twas  black  as  jet. 
You  stare ;  but,  sirs,  I've  got  it  yet, 
And  can  produce  it."  —  "  Pray,  sir,  do ; 
I'll  lay  my  life  the  thing  is  blue." 
"And  I'll  be  sworn,  that  when  you've  seen 
The  reptile  ^,  you'll  pronounce  him  green." 

10.  "  Well,  then,  at  once  to  end  the  doubt," 
Replies  the  man,  "I'll  turn  him  out; 
And  when  before  your  eyes  I've  set  him. 
If  you  don't  find  him  black,  I'll  eat  him." 
He  said;  and  full  before  their  sight 
Produced  the  beast,  and  lo !  —  'twas  white. 


144 


THE  FIFTH  KEADER. 


1 1    Both  stared ;  the  man  looked  wondrous  wise ; 
"  My  children,"  the  chameleon  cries, 
(Then  first  the  creature  found  a  tongue,) 
"  You  all  are  right,  and  all  are  wrong : 
When  next  you  talk  of  what  you  view, 
Think  others  see  as  well  as  you : 
Nor  wonder  if  you  find  that  none 
Prefers  your  eyesight  to  his  own." 


t  SpXrk.    a  lively,  showy  man. 

«  BlIux.    a  gay,  dashing  fellow, 

8  Tour.    A  journey. 

*  Ac-QU}-£scE'  In.  Assent  to  ;  sub- 
mit to  quietly. 

»  jEha-me'le-qn.  An  animal  of  the 
lizard  kind,  noted  for  changing  its 
color. 


•  DISJOINED'.   Separated;  parted;  di- 
vided ;  disunited. 

7  tJM'PiRE.    A  party,  to  whom  a  dis- 

pute or  question  between  two  or 
more  is  referred  for  settlement. 

8  P6th'er.    Tumult;  bustle. 

»  Rfip'TiLE.    A  creeping  animal,  aB  a 
Buake,  a  lizard,  &c. 


XXXIL  — THE  PROGRESS  OF   HUMANITY. 


SU3INER. 

[Charles  Sumner  was  bom  in  Boston,  January  6, 1811,  and  was  graduated  at 
Harvard  College  in  l&JO.  He  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1834,  and  in  1837  vis- 
ited Europe.  Having  become  earnestly  engaged  in  the  anti-slavery  cause,  he 
was  chosen  to  the  Senate  of  the  United  States  from  the  State  of  Massachusetts, 
in  the  winter  of  1851,  and  still  continues  a  member  of  that  body,  having  been 
twice  reelected.  He  is  well  known  for  the  energy  and  eloquence  with  which 
he  has  assailed  the  institution  of  slavery.  His  works,  consisting  of  speeches 
and  occasional  addresses,  liave  been  published  in  three  volumes,  and  are  re- 
xoarkable  for  fervid  eloquence  and  abundant  illustration.} 

1.  Let  us,  then,  be  of  good  cheer.  From  the  great  Law 
of  Progress  we  may  derive  at  once  our  duties  and  our 
encouragements.  Humanity  has  ever  advanced,  urged  by 
the  instincts  and  necessities  implanted  by  God, — thwarted' 
sometimes  by  obstacles  which  have  caused  it  for  a  time  — 
a  moment  only,  in  the  immensity '  of  ages  —  to  deviate 
from  its  true  line,  or  to  seem  to  retreat,  —  but  still  ever 
onward. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  145 

2.  Amidst  the  disappointments  which  may  attend  in- 
dividual exertions,  amidst  the  universal  agitations  which 
now  surround  us,  let  us  recognize  this  law,  confident 
that  whatever  is  just,  whatever  is  humane,  whatever  is 
/good,  whatever  is  true,  according  to  an  immutable  ordi- 
nance of  Providence,  in  the  golden  light  of  the  future, 
must  prevail.  With  this  faith,  let  us  place  our  hands,  as 
those  of  little  children,  in  the  great  hand  of  God.  He 
will  ever  guide  and  sustain  us  —  through  pains  and  perils, 
it  may  be  —  in  the  path  of  Progress. 

3.  In  the  recognition  of  this  law,  there  are  motives  to 
beneficent  activity,  which  shall  endure  to  the  last  syllable 
of  life.  Let  the  young  embrace  it :  they  shall  find  in  it  an 
ever-living  spring.  Let  the  old  cherish  it  still :  they  shall 
derive  from  it  fresh  encouragement.  It  shall  give  to  all, 
both  old  and  young,  a  new  appreciation  of  their  existence, 
a  new  sentiment  of  their  force,  a  new  revelation  of  their 
destiny. 

4.  Be  it,  then,  our  duty  and  our  encouragement  to  live 
and  to  labor,  ever  mindful  of  the  Future.  But  let  us  not 
forget  the  Past.  All  ages  have  lived  and  labored  for  us. 
From  one  has  come  art,  from  another  jurisprudence^,  from 
another  the  compass,  from  another  the  printing-press; 
from  all  have  proceeded  priceless  lessons  of  truth  and  vir- 
tue. The  earliest  and  most  distant  times  are  not  without 
a  present  influence  on  our  daily  lives.  The  mighty  stream 
of  Progress,  though  fed  by  many  tributary*  waters  and 
hidden  springs,  derives  something  of  its  force  from  the 
earlier  currents  which  leap  and  sparkle  in  the  distant 
mountain  recesses,  over  precipices,  among  rapids,  and  be- 
neath the  shade  of  the  primeval  ^  forest. 

6.   Nor  should  we  be  too  impatient  to  witness  the  fulfil- 
ment of  our  aspirations.     The  daily  increasing  rapidity  of 
discovery  and   improvement,  and   the   daily  multiplying 
efibrts  of  beneficence,  in  later  years  outstripping  the  im- 
13 


146  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

aginations  of  the  most  sanguine  %  furnish  well-grounded 
assurance  that  the  advance  of  man  will  be  with  a  constantly- 
accelerating  '  speed.  The  extending  intercourse  among  the 
nations  of  the  earth,  and  among  all  the  children  of  the 
human  family,  gives  new  promises  of  the  complete  diffu- 
sion of  Truth,  penetrating  the  most  distant  places,  chasing 
away  the  darkness  of  night,  and  exposing  the  hideous 
forms  of  slavery,  of  war,  of  wrong,  which  must  be  hated 
as  soon  as  they  are  clearly  seeti. 

6.  Cultivate,  then,  a  just  moderation.  Learn  to  recon- 
cile® order  with  change,  stability  with  progress.  This  is  a* 
wise  conservatism  ^ ;  this  is  a  wise  reform.  B-ightly  under- 
standing these  terms,  who  would  not  be  a  Conservative  ? 
who  would  not  be  a  Reformer?  —  a  conservative  of  all  that 
is  good,  a  reformer  of  all  that  is  evil;  a  conservative  of 
knowledge,  a  reformer  of  ignorance;  a  conservative  of 
truths  and  principles  whose  seat  is  the  bosom  of  God,  a 
reformer  of  laws  and  institutions  which  are  but  the  wicked 
or  imperfect  work  of  man ;  a  conservative  of  that  divine 
order  which  is  found  only  in  movement,  a  reformer  of 
those  earthly  wrongs  and  abuses  which  spring  from  a  vio 
lation  of  the  great  Law  of  human  progress.  Blending 
these  two  characters  in  one,  let  us  seek  to  be,  at  the  same 
time,  Reformixg  Conservatives,  and  Conservativb 
Reformers. 


1  ThwArt'ed.  Frustrated  ;  hindered. 
8  Im-m6n'si-tv.       Unlimited    extent; 

infinity. 
8  Ju-Rjs  prC'dence.    The  science  of 

law  and  right. 
*  TrIb'u-ta-ry.        Paying      tribute ; 

yielding-  supplies, 
6  Fri-mE'val.     Original;    pertaining 

to  the  earliest  ages  j  primitive. 


«  SXn'guine.    Hopeful ;  confident. 
T  Ac-c£l'er-at-ing.    Hastening  ;  in- 
creasing. 

8  R£c'pN-ciLE.      Restore    to   favor*, 

cause  to  agree  or  harmonize. 

9  Con  SERV'A-TI?M.       Adherence     to 

existing   institutions ;    disiucliu* 
tion  to  change. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  147 

XXXIII.  — THE  OLD  OAKEN  BUCKET. 

WOODWORTH. 

fSamuel  "Wood worth,  the  author  of  this  pleasing  and  popular  poem,  was  a 
native  of  "Weymouth,  in  Massachusetts,  and  was  born  about  1790,  and  died  in 
New  York,  at  the  age  of  about  fifty.  He  was  a  printer  by  trade,  and  lived 
many  years  in  Boston.  He  was  a  man  of  considerable  literary  talent,  and  pub- 
lished in  New  York  a  volume  of  fugitive  pieces,  called  Melodies,  Duets,  Trios, 
Songs,  and  Ballads,  which  reached  a  third  edition. 

Woodworth  was  also  the  author  of  a  well-known  patriotic  song,  called  the 
Hunters  of  Kentucky.] 

1.  How  dear  to  this  heart  are  the  scenes  of  ray  childhood, 
*        When  fond  recollection  presents  them  to  view ! 

The  orchard,  the  meadow,  the  deep-tangled  wild  wood, 
And  every  loved  spot  which  my  infancy  knew ; 

The  wide-spreading  pond,  and  the  mill  which  stood  by  it^ 
The  bridge  and  the  rock  where  the  cataract  *  fell ; 

The  cot  of  my  father,  the  dairy-house  ^  nigh  it. 
And  e'en  the  rude  bucket  which  hung  in  the  well : 

The  old  oaken  bucket,  the  iron-bound  bucket. 

The  moss-covered  bucket,  which  hung  in  the  well. 

2.  That  moss-covered  vessel  I  hail  as  a  treasure ; 

For  often,  at  noon,  when  returned  from  the  field, 
I  found  it  the  source  of  an  exquisite  pleasure. 

The  purest  and  sweetest  that  nature  can  yield. 
How  ardent  I  seized  it,  with  hands  that  were  glowing  I 

And  quick  to  the  white-pebbled  bottom  it  fell ; 
Then  soon,  with  the  emblem  ^  of  truth  overflowing, 

And  dripping  with  coolness,  it  rose  from  the  well : 
The  old  oaken  bucket,  the  iron-bound  bucket, 
The  moss-covered  bucket  arose  from  the  well. 

3.  How  sweet  from  the  green  mossy  brim  to  receive  it, 

As  poised  on  the  curb  it  inclined  to  my  lips ! 
Not  a  full  blushing  goblet "  could  tempt  me  to  leave  it 
Though  filled  with  the  nectar  ^  that  Jupiter  sips. 


148 


THE   FIFTH  READER. 


And  now,  far  removed  from  the  loved  situation, 
The  tear  of  regret  will  intrusively  swell, 

As  fancy  reverts  to  my  father's  plantation, 

And  sighs  for  the  bucket  which  hangs  in  the  well : 

The  old  oaken  bucket,  the  iron-bound  bucket. 

The  moss-covered  bucket,  which  hangs  in  the  well. 


1  CXt'a-rXct.    a  waterfall. 

*  Dai'rv-hoOse.  a  place  in  which 
milk,  cheese,  and  butter  are  kept. 

»  £m'blem.  An  object  which  repre- 
sents one  thing  to  the  eye  and  an- 
other to  the  mind.   Water  is  called 


the  emblem  of  truth,  because  of 
its  purity  and  clearness. 
*  GSb'let.     a  large  drinking  cup, 
6  Nfic'TAR.    The  drink  of  the  heathen 
gods,  of  which  Jupiter  was  sup- 
posed to  be  the  chief.  « 


XXXIV.  — IVAN  THE  CZAR. 

Mrs.  Hemans. 

[Ivan,  the  Czar  of  Russia,  sumamed  the  Terrible,  in  his  old  age  was  besieging 
the  city  of  Novgorod,  in  1582.  His  nobles,  perceiving  that  his  powers  were  im- 
paired by  age,  requested  that  the  assault  might  be  made  under  the  command  of 
his  son.  This  proposal  threw  him  into  the  greatest  fury ;  and  nothing  could 
soothe  him.  His  son  threw  himself  at  his  feet ;  but  his  savage  father  repulsed 
him,  and  struck  him  so  cruel  a  blow  that  the  unhappy  youth  died  from  the 
effects  of  it  in  two  days  after.  The  father  then  sank  into  the  deepest  despair. 
He  abandoned  alike  the  conduct  of  the  war  and  the  government  of  the  empire, 
and  soon  followed  his  son  to  the  tomb.] 

1.  He  sat  in  silence  on  the  ground, 

The  old  and  haughty  Czar  * ; 
Lonely,  though  princes  girt  him  round, 

And  leaders  of  the  war : 
He  had  cast  his  jewelled  sabre  % 

That  many  a  field  had  won. 
To  the  earth  beside  his  youthful  dead. 

His  fair  and  first-born  son. 


With  a  robe  of  ermine  ^  for  its  bed 
Was  laid  that  form  of  clay, 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  149 

Where  the  light  a  stormy  sunset  shed, 
Through  the  rich  tent  made  way; 

And  a  sad  and  solemn  beauty 
On  the  pallid  face  came  down, 

Which  the  lord  of  nations  mutely  watched. 
In  the  dust  with  his  renown. 

3.  Low  tones,  at  last,  of  woe  and  fear 

From  his  full  bosom  broke ;  — 
A  mournful  thing  it  was  to  hear 

How  then  the  proud  man  spoke. 
The  voice  that  through  the  combat 

Had  shouted  far  and  high. 
Came  forth  in  strange,  dull,  hollow  tones> 

Burdened  with  agony. 

4.  "  There  is  no  crimson  on  thy  cheek, 

And  on  thy  lip  no  breath ; 
I  call  thee,  and  thou  dost  not  speak  — 

They  tell  me  this  is  death ! 
And  fearful  things  are  whispering 

That  I  the  deed  have  done  — 
For  the  honor  of  thy  father's  name. 

Look  up,  look  up,  ray  son ! 

5.  "Well  might  I  know  death's  hue  and  m.ien ; 

But  on  thine  aspect,  boy, 
What,  till  this  moment,  have  I  seen, 

Save  pride  and  tameless  joy  ? 
Swiftest  thou  wert  to  battle, 

And  bravest  there  of  all  — 
How  could  I  think  a  warrior's  frame 

Thus  like  a  flower  should  fall  ? 

6.  "I  will  not  bear  that  still,  cold  look; 

Rise  up,  thou  fierce  and  free ; 
13* 


160  THE   FIFTH  READER. 

Wake  as  the  storm  wakes.    I  will  brook 
All,  save  this  calm,  from  thee. 

Lift  brightly  up  and  proudly 
Once  more  thy  kindling  eyes ! 

Hath  my  word  lost  its  power  on  earth? 
I  say  to  thee,  Arise ! 

7.  "  Didst  thou  not  know  I  loved  thee  well  ? 

Thou  didst  not,  and  art  gone 
In  bitterness  of  soul  to  dwell 

Where  man  must  dwell  alone. 
Come  back,  young  fiery  spirit, 

If  but  for  one  hour,  to  learn 
The  secrets  of  the  folded  *  heart 

That  seemed  to  thee  so  stem. 

8.  "  Thou  wert  the  first,  the  first  fair  child, 

That  in  mine  arms  I  pressed ; 
Thou  wert  the  bright  one,  that  hast  smiled 

Like  summer  on  my  breast. 
I  reared  thee  as  an  eagle ; 

To  the  chase  thy  steps  I  led ; 
I  bore  thee  on  my  battle  horse ; 

I  look  upon  thee  —  dead ! 

9.  "  Lay  down  my  warlike  banners  here, 

Never  again  to  wave ; 
And  bury  my  red  sword  and  spear, 

Chiefs,  in  my  first  horn's  grave. 
And  leave  me !     I  hate  conquered, 

I  have  slain ;  my  work  is  done. 
Whom  have  I  slain  ?    Ye  answer  not ; 

Thou  too  art  mute,  my  son." 

10.  And  thus  his  wild  lament  was  poured 
Through  the  dark,  resounding  uight; 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


151 


And  the  battle  knew  no  more  his  sword, 
Nor  the  foaming  steed  his  might. 

He  heard  strange  voices  moaning 
In  every  wind  that  sighed  ; 

From  the  searching  stars  of  heaven  he  shrank; 
Humbly  the  conqueror  died. 


1  Cz'AR  (zar,  or  tzar).    The  title  of  the 

emperor  of  liussia. 
«  Si'BRE.    A  kind  of  sword,  with  a 

broad,  heavy  blade. 


3  ER'MiNE.    The  fur  of  a  small  animal 

of  the  same  name,  of  great  value. 

4  Brook,  (bruk).    Bear;  endure. 

5  Foi.D']Ei>.  Reserved  J  shut  up;  close 


XXXV.  — A  LION  HUNT. 

Gerakd. 

[This  lesson  is  taken  from  the  Adventures  of  Gdrard  (zha-rar')  the  Lion  Killer, 
translated  from  the  French  by  Charles  E.  Whitehead.  Gerard  was  an  officer  in 
tlie  French  army  employed  in  Algeria,  in  North  Africa,  Miiich  is  now  a  French 
province.  Being  a  man  of  courage  and  an  admirable  marksman,  he  succeeded 
in  killing  a  great  number  of  lions,  and  thus  acquired  a  high  reputution  both 
among  his  own  countrymen  and  the  natives  of  the  country.  Lions  commit 
such  ravages  among  their  cattle  that  he  who  destroys  one  is  considered  a  great 
public  benefactor.  Gerard's  adventures  have  been  recently  published  in  PariH, 
where  they  have  attracted  much  attention.  They  are  written  in  a  very  spirited 
style,  and  his  daring  feats  are  modestly  narrated.] 

1.  On  the  4th  of  August,  1844,  I  received  an  invitation 
from  the  inhabitants  of  Mahouna,*  the  lion's  paradise, 
which  I  immediately  accepted.  On  my  amval,  about 
sunset,  I  found  the  village  surrounded  by  immense  piles  of 
light  wood,  aiTanged  for  the  reception  of  the  lion,  that 
paid  them  nightly  calls.  I  forbade  their  being  kindled, 
and  immediately  selected  the  place  I  intended  to  occupy, 
in  order  to  waylay  him  that  very  night,  in  case  he  should 
come  as  usual  to  prey  on  the  herds. 

2.  Having  by  careful  searching  found  the  route  by  which 

*  Mahou'na  is  a  place  iu  the  province  of  Guelma,  in  Algeria. 


152  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

the  animal  usually  came,  I  took  my  seat  directly  in  his 
path,  in  spite  of  the  remonstrances  of  the  Arabs.  Finding 
me  fixed  in  my  purpose,  they  brought  me  mats  and  cush- 
ions ;  and  a  smoking  repast  was  soon  placed  by  the  side 
of  the  couch  that  was  to  sei-ve  me  for  the  night. 

3.  My  hosts  remained  with  me  till  a  late  hour,  telling 
many  tragic  stories  of  the  strength  and  ferocity  of  the 
lion.  As  midnight  approached,  the  party  broke  up,  with 
many  prayers  for  my  success.  I  remained  on  the  watch 
with  a  native  corporal '  in  the  French  service,  named  Saadi, 
whose  brother  was  chief  of  this  country.  He  was  armed 
with  a  carbine',  and  I  with  a  double-barrelled  rifle. 

4.  About  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  my  Arab  friend, 
little  accustomed  to  these  night  watches,  pleaded  guilty  to 
being  very  sleepy,  and  stretched  himself  out  behind 
me,  where,  to  do  him  justice,  he  slept  most  soundly.  I 
know  many  brave  men  who  would  not  have  done  as  much, 
while  lying  in  wait  for  a  Hon.  I  had  taken  the  precaution 
to  have  all  the  dogs  tied  up  under  the  tents,  so  as  to  quiet 
their  customary  clamor;  and  now,  in  the  dead  silence 
around  me,  I  could  detect  the  faintest  noise  or  motion. 

5.  Up  to  this  time  the  heavens  had  been  serene,  and  the 
moon  clear;  but  soon  clouds  gathered  in  the  west,  and 
came  scudding  past  before  a  warm,  sultry  wind;  and  a  little 
later  the  sky  was  all  overcast',  the  moon  disappeared,  and 
the  thunder  rolled  round  us  in  heavy  peals,  announcing  a 
coming  tempest.  Then  the  rain  fell  in  torrents,  and, 
drenching  my  companion,  he  awoke,  and  we  consulted  for 
a  moment  about  returning.  But  while  we  were  talking,  an 
Arab  called  out  from  the  tents,  "  Beware !  the  lion  will 
come  with  the  storm." 

6.  This  decided  me  to  remain  at  my  post,  and  I  covered 
the  locks  of  my  gun  with  the  skirts  of  my  coat.  Soon  the 
rain  ceased;  flashes  of  lightning  played  round  the  distant 
horizon '' ;  and  the  moon,  brighter  than  ever,  came  in  and 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  Ibc' 

out  from  the  fleecy  clouds  over-  our  heads.  I  took  advan- 
tage of  every  one  of  these  brief  moments  of  clear  sky  to 
survey  the  country  about  me,  and  to  examine  every  clump 
of  trees  or  fallen  log ;  and  it  was  in  one  of  these  short 
luminous  intervals  that  all  of  a  sudden  I  thought  I  saw  the 
lion.  I  waited  breathless  till  the  moon  came  out  again. 
Yes,  it  was  he !  standing  motionless  only  a  few  paces  from 
the  camp. 

7.  Accustomed  to  see  fires  lighted  at  every  tent,  to  hear 
a  hundred  dogs  barking  in  terror,  and  to  see  the  men  hurl- 
ing lighted  brands  at  him,  he,  without  doubt,  was  at  a  loss 
to  explain  the  rather  suspicious  silence  that  reigned  around 
him. 

8.  While  I  was  turning  slowly  round,  in  order  to  take 
better  aim,  without  being  seen  by  the  animal,  a  cloud  shut 
out  the  moon.  I  was  seated  with  my  left  elbow  on  my 
knee,  my  rifle  at  my  shoulder,  watching,  by  turns,  the  lion, 
that  I  only  recognized  as  a  confused  mass,  and  the  passing 
cloud,  the  extent  of  which  I  anxiously  contemplated. 

9.  At  length  it  passed  by ;  and  the  moonlight,  dearer  to 
me  than  the  most  beautiful  sunshine,  illumined  the  scene, 
and  again  showed  me  the  lion,  still  standing  in  the  same 
place.  I  saw  him  the  better  because  he  was  so  much  raised 
above  me;  and  he  loomed  up^  proudly  magnificent,  stand- 
ing as  he  was  in  majestic  repose,  with  his  head  high  in  air, 
and  his  flowing  mane  undulating^  in  the  wind  and  falling 
to  his  knees.  It  was  a  black  lion,  of  noble  form  and  the 
largest  size.  As  he  presented  his  side  to  me,  I  aimed  just 
behind  his  shoulder,  and  fired. 

10.  I  heard  a  fierce  roar  of  mingled  pain  and  rage 
echoing  up  the  hills  with  the  report  of  my  gun,  and  then 
from  under  the  smoke  I  saw  the  lion  bounding  upon  me. 

11.  Saadi,  roused' the  second  time  that  night  from  his 
slumbers,  sprang  to  his  gun,  and  was  about  to  fire  over  my 
(shoulder.    With  a  motion  of  my  arm  I  pushed  aside  the 


154  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

baiTel  of  his  gun,  and  when  the  beast,  still  roaring  furiously, 
was  within  three  steps  of  me,  I  fired  my  second  barrel 
directly  into  hi«  breast. 

12.  Before  I  could  seize  my  companion's  gun,  the  lion 
rolled  at  my  feet,  bathing  them  in  the  blood  that  gushed 
in  torrents  from  his  throat.  He  had  fallen  so  near  me  that 
I  could  have  touched  him  from  where  I  stood. 

13.  In  looking  for  the  balls,  I  found  the  first  one  just 
behind  the  shoulder,  where  I  had  intended  it  to  hit ;  but 
the  second,  that  had  been  fired  in  haste,  and  almost  at 
hazard,  had  given  the  mortal  wound.  From  this  moment 
I  learned  that  it  is  not  enough  to  aim  correctly  in  order  to 
kill  a  lion,  and  that  it  is  a  feat  infinitely  more  serious  than 
I  had  at  first  supposed. 

14.  It  was  a  long  while  before  the  Arabs  could  believe 
that  the  lion  was  really  dead,  or  venture  into  the  presence 
j>f  the  fallen  monarch  of  the  forest.  But  when  assured 
that  their  dread  enemy,  from  whom  they  had  suffered  so 
much,  could  no  longer  harm  them,  they  overwhelmed  me 
yrith  thanks  and  congratulations. 

15.  The  men,  with  stately  grace,  kissed  the  hem  of  my 
garment,  or  my  rifle  that  lay  at  my  side,  saying,  "May 
God  strengthen  your  arm  and  bless  you." 

16.  The  women  kissed  my  hand,  saying,  "God  bless  the 
mother  that  bore  you."  The  mothers  lifted  up  their  chil- 
dren in  their  arms,  that  they  might  touch  me  and  kiss  me, 
saying,  "  Don't  be  afraid ;  he  only  harms  the  lion ;  he  is 
our  friend  and  brother." 

17.  I  can  say,  with  all  sincerity,  that  there  were  no  voices 
BO  sweet  as  those  which  named  my  mother's  name,  that 
aske^  me  her  age,  and  when  I  had  left  her,  if  I  ever  heard 
from  her  now  when  far  away,  if  I  wanted  to  see  her,  and 
if  she  were  ever  coming  to  their  country;  and  that  ended 
their  questions  by  invoking  a  thousand  blessings  on  her 
honored  head. 


j 


THE  FIFTH  READER. 


155 


18.  The  death  of  the  lion  had  truly  been  a  blessing, 
since  it  summoned  up  to  my  mind  such  pleasant  remem- 
brances of  a  far-away  home,  and  of  a  mother  whom  I  so 
dearly  loved.  No  sweeter  praise  could  have  been  be- 
stowed ;  no  greater  triumph  could  have  been  won. 


1  CoR'pp-RAL.  A  -non-commissioned 
ofRcor,  the  lowest  in  rank,  in  a 
company  of  soldiers. 

'  Car'bIne.  a  small  gun,  in  size  be- 
tween a  pistol  and  a  musket,  car- 
ried by  cavalry. 

i  6'v]?R-cAsT.    Covered  with  clouds. 


4  Hp-Ri'ZQN.     The  line  where  the  sky 

and  earth  appear  to  meet. 

5  Loomed  Op.    Stood  up  so  as  to  be 

distinctly  seen ;   appeared    larger 
than  reality. 

6  tJN'DV-LAT-iNG.    Flowing;  heaving 

as  the  waves  of  the  sea  move. 


XXXYL  — THE  WHALE  FISHERY. 

North  American  Review. 

1.  The  method  of  taking  the  whale,  as  practised  by  all 
nations,  and  for  every  species,  is  nearly  as  follows :  —  The 
whale  is  compelled  to  come  frequently  to  the  surface,  for 
the  pui-pose  of  breathing.  The  nearest  boat  approaches 
from  behind,  from  which  the  harpoon  ^  ^s  launched  into  the 
huge  carcass.  This  it  is  almost  impossible  to  disengage,  it 
being  provided  with  two  strong  barbs'. 

2.  If  not  instantly  killed,  the  whale  sinks,  and  sinks 
often  to  a  great  depth.  Exhausted  by  the  immense  super- 
incumbent' pressure  of  the  water,  he  sometimes  comes  up 
dead.  Frequently  he  sinks  only  a  short  distance ;  but  as 
soon  as  he  rises,  the  whalemen  endeavor  to  plunge  into 
him  the  lance,  an  instrument  of  the  finest  steel,  sharpened 
with  the  keenness  of  the  surgeon's  lancet. 

3.  Attached  to  the  harpoon  is  a  line,  which,  as  the 
animal  is  disposed  to  sink  or  dash  through  the  waves,  is 
suffered  to  run  loose  around  a  small  post  in  the  stern  of 
the  boat ;  and  it  often  flies  with  such  rapidity  that  the  har- 
pooner  is  enveloped  in  smoke,  and  it  frequently  becomes 


156  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

necessary  to  pour  on  water,  to  prevent  the  friction  of  the 
rope  on  the  post,  from  generating  ^  flame. 

4.  If  the  line  becomes  entangled  while  the  whale  is 
sinking,  the  boat  sometimes  rears  one  end  aloft,  and  makes 
a  majestic  dive  into  the  deep.  In  the  contest  the  boat  is 
sometimes  dashed  to  shivers,  and  the  men  experience  no 
pleasant  immersion^,  if  they  are  fortunate  enough  to 
escape  without  broken  limbs. 

5.  The  whale,  stung  with  the  fatal  wound,  sometimes 
dashes  along-  the  surface  with  a  deathlike  energy ;  and  the 
little  boat,  almost  under  water,  flies  with  the  velocity  of 
the  wind.  If  he  escape,  he  escapes  with  a  prize  on  which 
he  has  no  cause  of  congratulation ;  for  he  carries,  deeply 
buried  in  his  body,  one  or  more  of  the  sharp  instruments, 
and  drags  off  several  hundred  fathoms  of  rope. 

6.  Our  whalemen  have  found  irons  in  the  carcass  of  a 
whale,  known  to  have  been  planted  there  several  years 
before,  on  another  ocean.  As  the  warp  flies,  it  sometimes 
throws  its  coils  around  the  body  of  a  man,  and  dragging 
him  over  in  a  moment,  carries  him  into  the  ocean  depths, 
from  which  he  never  more  emerges.  Sometimes  it  only 
dislocates  or  breaks  the  legs  and  arms  of  the  unfortunate 
men  who  become  entangled  in  the  folds. 

7.  A  captain  of  a  New  London  ship  was  caught  by  two 
coils  of  the  wai-p,  one  around  his  body,  and  another  around 
his  leg.  He  had  the  presence  of  mind  immediately  to  seize 
his  knife,  and  after  a  while  succeeded  in  cutting  himself 
loose.  He  was  carried,  however,  to  a  great  depth,  and 
when  he  returned  to  the  surface,  was  almost  exhausted. 

8.  The  whale,  when  roused  to  desperation,  makes  an 
onset  with  his  mouth  only.  Then  he  crushes  a  boat  to 
atoms.  A  sperm  whale  ^  once  destroyed  two  boats  of  a 
Nantucket  ship,  and  then  attacked  the  ship  ;  rushing  with 
tremendous  force  against  her  side,  he  crushed  in  her  planks, 
and  thus  made  a  breach  from  which  she  soon  sunk. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  157 

9.  The  whaler  sometimes  roams  for  months  without 
finding  his  prey ;  but  he  is  buoyed  up  by  the  expectation 
of  finally  reaping  the  profits  of  a  great  voyage.  To  some 
minds  the  pursuit  of  such  gigantic  game  has  a  tinge  of 
the  romantic.  There  must  be  a  thrilling  excitement  iu 
the  adventurous  chase. 

"  The  blood  more  stirs 
To  rouse  a  lion  than  to  start  a  hare." 

10.  Many  become  passionately  attached  to  the  busi- 
ness, notwithstanding  its  privations,  and  reluctantly  leave 
it  at  last.  They  have  moments  of  most  pleasing  anxiety, 
and  meet  with  some  incidents  of  the  most  enlivening 
cast. 

11.  On  the  south-east  coast  of  Africa  is  Delego  Bay,  a 
calm,  smooth  place,  frequented  by  vessels  from  various 
parts  of  the  world.  In  this  bay,  a  few  years  since,*  a  whale 
was  observed  almost  equally  distant  from  an  American  and 
an  English  ship.  From  both,  the  boats  were  low^ered, 
manned,  and  pushed  off  in  an  instant.  They  sped  with 
the  velocity  of  the  wind.  The  English,  at  first  ahead, 
perceiving  their  rivals  gaining  on  them,  bore  wide  off  ^  to 
keep  them  out  of  reach  of  the  whale. 

12.  When  the  two  boats  were  nearly  abreast,  one  of  the 
American  sailors  leaped  from  his  seat,  and  with  extraor- 
dinary agility  hurled  the  ponderous^  harpoon  over  the 
English  boat.  It  struck  the  monster  in  the  vital  part;  the 
English  boat  shrunk  back  under  the  warp ;  the  waves  were 
crimsoned  with  blood;  and  the  American  took  possession^ 
while  the  whole  bay  echoed  and  reechoed  with  repeated 
shouts  of  applause. 


I  Har-p66n'.  a  lance  with  a  Ions' 
shank,  and  a  broad,  triangular,  flat 
head,  sharpened  at  both  ends. 

'  Barb§.  Toints  turned  backwards  in 
an  arrow,  fish  hook,  or  other  in- 


strument for  piercing',  to  prevent 

its  being  extracted. 
3  SO-per-in-cGm'bent.     Lying  over 

or  upon. 
*  ^£n'kr-at-ing.    Producing, 


*  Written  in  1834. 


158 


THE  FIFTH  READER. 


6  Jm-mMr'sion.  Act  of  putting  wholly 
under  water  or  other  fluid,  or  the 
state  of  being  wholly  under  water ; 
a  ducking. 

>  Sperm  Wiiale.     A  blunt-headed 


whale  from  which  spermaceti  is 
extracted. 

7  BeAr  wIde  off.    To  keep  away  at 

a  distance  from  any  thing. 

8  PdN'DjpR-ovs.    Heavy. 


XXXVIL— THE   SOLITUDE    OF    ALEXANDER 
SELKIRK. 

COWPER. 

[In  1704,  Alexander  Selkirk,  a  Scotchman,  who  was  sailing-master  of  an 
English  privateer,  in  consequence  of  a  quarrel  with  the  captain,  was  put 
ashore,  at  his  own  request,  on  the  uninhabited  island  of  Juan  Fernandez,  which 
lies  about  fourliundred  miles  from  the  coast  of  Chili.  He  was  well  supplied 
with  clothing,  instruments,  and  arms,  and  remained  on  the  island  in  solitude 
over  four  years,  when  he  was  taken  off  by  an  English  vessel.  His  story  is  sup- 
posed to  have  suggested  tlie  well-known  romance  of  Robinson  Crusoe.  This 
poem  expresses  the  sentiments  Selkirk  may  be  imagined  to  have  felt  while  on 
his  solitary  island.] 

1.  I  AM  monarch  of  all  I  survey ; 

My  right  there  is  none  to  dispute ; 
From  the  centre  all  round  to  the  sea, 

I  am  lord  of  the  fowl  and  the  brute. 
O  Solitude !  where  are  the  charais 

That  sages  have  seen  in  thy  face  ? 
Better  dwell  in  the  midst  of  alarms 

Than  reign  in  this  horrible  place. 

2.  I  am  out  of  humanity's'  reach ; 

I  must  finish  my  journey  alone; 
Never  hear  the  sweet  music  of  speech ; 

I  start  at  the  sound  of  my  own. 
The  beasts  that  roam  over  the  plain 

My  form  with  indifference  see : 
They  are  so  unacquainted  with  man, 

Their  tameness  is  shocking  to  me. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  159 

3.  Society,  friendship,  and  love, 

Divinely  bestowed  upon  man, 
O,  had  I  the  wings  of  a  dove, 

How  soon  would  I  taste  you  again  I 
My  sorrows  I  then  might  assuage  * 

In  the  ways  of  religion  and  truth; 
Might  learn  from  the  wisdom  of  age, 

And  be  cheered  by  the  sallies^  of  youth. 

4.  Religion  !  what  treasure  untold 

Resides  in  that  heavenly  word  ! 
More  precious  than  silver  and  gold, 

Or  all  that  this  earth  can  afford. 
But  the  sound  of  the  church-going  bell 

These  valleys  and  rocks  never  heard, 
Ne'er  sighed  at  the  sound  of  a  knell  *, 

Or  smiled  when  a  Sabbath  appeared. 

6.  Ye  winds,  that  have  made  me  your  spoi*t 

Convey  to  this  desolate  shore 
Some  cordial",  endearing  report 

Of  a  land  I  shall  visit  no  more  : 
My  friends,  do  they  now  and  then  send 

A  wish  or  a  thought  after  me  ? 
O,  tell  me  I  yet  have  a  friend. 

Though  a  friend  I  am  never  to  see. 

6.  How  fleet  is»a  glance  of  the  mind  ! 

Compared  with  the  speed  of  its  flight. 
The  tempest  itself  lags  behind, 

And  the  swift-winged  arrows  of  light. 
When  I  think  of  my  own  native  land, 

In  a  moment  I  seem  to  be  there  j 
But,  alas  !  recollection^  at  hand 

Soon  hurries  me  back  to  despair. 


160 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


7.  But  the  sea-fowl  is  gone  to  her  nest,. 

The  beast  is  laid  clown  in  his  lair '' ; 
Even  here  is  a  season  of  rest, 

And  I  to  my  cabin  repair. 
There's  mercy  in  every  place ; 

And  mercy,  encouraging  thought! 
Gives  even  affliction  a  grace, 

And  reconciles  man  to  liis  lot. 


1  Hv-MAir'j-Ty.  The  nature  of  man; 
the  human  race ;  mankind. 

«  A?-8UAGB'  (-swaj'J.  Soften;  allay; 
moderate ;  soothe. 

«  SAl'lie?.  Quick  or  sprigfitly  exer- 
tions or  sayings ;  frolics. 


<  KnEll.    Sound  of  a  bell  rung  at  a 
funeral,  or  announcing  a  death. 

5  Cord'iai.,    Comforting ;  hearty. 

6  R£c-pL-L,fic'TiON.    Act  of  recalling 

to  mind  things  once  known. 
1  LAiR.    Bed  or  couch  of  a  wild  beast. 


XXXVIIL  — THE  AMERICAN  INDIAN. 

ClIAKLES  SPRAGUE. 

[Charles  Sprague  was  born  in  Boston,  October  25,  1791,  and  has  constantly 
resided  here.  His  longer  poems  are  fervid  and  brilliant,  and  polished  in  their 
versification.  He  has  written  many  charming  small  pieces.  The  following 
extract  is  taken  from  a  fourth  of  July  oration.] 

1.  N"oT  many  generations  ago,  where  yon  now  sit,  cir- 
cled with  all  that  exalts  and  embellishes  civilized  life,  the 
rank  thistle  nodded  in  the  wind,  and  the  wild  fox  dug 
his  hole  unscared.  Here  lived  and  loved  another  race  of 
beings.  Beneath  the  same  sun  that  rolls  over  your  heads, 
the  Indian  hunter  pursued  the  panting  deer;  gazing  on 
the  same  moon  that  smiles  for  you,  the  Indian  lover  wooed 
his  dusky '  mate. 

2.  Here  the  wigwam  ^  blaze  beamed  on  the  tencler  and 
helpless,  the  council  fire  glared  on  the  wise  and  daring. 
Now  they  dipped  their  noble  limbs  in  your  sedgy ^  lakes, 
and  now  they  paddled  thq  light  canoe  along  your  rocky 
shores.      Here   they  warred ;    the   echoing  whoop ,    thG 


I 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  161 

bloody  grapple,  the  defying  death-song,  all  were  here ;  and 
when  the  tiger  strife  was  over,  here  curled  the  smoke  of 
peace. 

3.  Here,  too,  they  worshipped ;  and  from  many  a  dark 
bosom  went  up  a  pure  prayer  to  the  Great  Spirit.  He  had 
not  written  his  laws  for  them  on  tables*  of  stone,  but  he 
had  traced  them  on  the  tables  of  their  hearts.  The  poor 
child  of  nature  knew  not  the  God  of  revelation,  but  the 
God  of  the  universe  he  acknowledged  in  every  thing 
around. 

4.  He  beheld  him  in  the  star  that  sunk  in  beauty  behind 
his  lonely  dwelling ;  in  the  sacred  orb  that  flamed  on  him 
from  his  midday  throne ;  in  the  flower  that  snapped  in  the 
morning  breeze  ;  in  the  lofty  pine,  that  defied  a  thousand 
whirlwinds ;  in  the  timid  warbler,  that  never  left  its  na- 
tive grove ;  in  the  fearless  eagle,  whose  untired  pinion  was 
wet  in  clouds ;  in  the  worm  that  crawled  at  his  feet ;  and 
in  his  own  matchless  form,  glowing  with  a  spark  of  that 
light,  to  whose  mysterious  source  he  bent,  in  humble, 
though  blind  adoration. 

5.  And  all  this  has  passed  away.  Across  the  ocean 
came  a  pilgrim  bark,  bearing  the  seeds  of  life  and  death. 
The  former  were  sown  for  you ;  the  latter  sprang  up  in 
the  path  of  the  simple  native.  Two  hundred  years  havo 
changed  the  character  of  a  great  continent,  and  blotted 
forever  from  its  face  a  whole  peculiar  people.  Art  has 
usurped  the  bowers  of  nature,  and  the  children  of  educa- 
tion have  been  too  powerful  for  the  tribes  of  the  ignorant. 

6.  Here  and  there  a  stricken  few  remain;  but  how 
unlike  their  bold,  untamed,  untamable  progenitors®!  The 
Indian,  of  falcon  glance  and  lion  bearing,  the  theme  of 
the  touching  ballad,  the  hero  of  the  pathetic  tale,  is  gone ! 
and  his  degraded  offspring  crawl  upon  the  soil  where  he 
walked  in  majesty,  to  remind  us  how  miserable  is  man 
when  the  foot  of  the  conqueror  is  on  his  neck. 

14* 


162 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


7.  As  a  race,  they  have  withered  from  the  land.  Their 
arrows  are  broken,  their  springs  are  dried  up,  their  cabins 
are  in  the  dust.  Their  council-fire  has  long  since  gone  out 
on  the  shore,  and  their  war-ciy  is  fast  dying  to  the  un- 
trodden west.  Slowly  and  sadly  they  climb  the  distant 
mountains,  and  read  their  doom  in  the  setting  sun.  They 
are  shrinking  before  the  mighty  tide  which  is  pressing 
them  away ;  they  must  soon  hear  the  roar  of  the  last  wave, 
which  will  settle  over  them  forever. 


1  DDsK'y.    Dark  colored. 
I  WIg'wAm.    An  Indian  hut  or  cabin. 
»  SEd^'v,  Filled  with  or  having  sedge, 
a  grass-like  or  rush-like  plant. 


*  VVh66p.    a  loud  shout  or  cry. 
5  Ta'ble?.    Tablets  j  plane  surfaces. 
0  Peo-(?£x\'j-t<?r§.     Ancestors  i  fore- 
fathers. 


XXXIX.  — MOUNT  AUBURN. 

Story. 

[Joseph  Story  was  bom  in  Marblehead,  Massachusetts,  September  18, 1779, 
and  died  in  Cambridge,  S^tembcr  10,  1845.  He  was  a  judge  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  the  United  States  from  1811  till  his  death.  He  was  eminent  as  a 
judge,  a  juridical  writer,  and  a  teacher  of  law.  The  following  extract  is  from 
an  address  delivered  at  the  consecration  of  the  cemetery  of  Mount  Auburn, 
September  24, 1831.] 

1.  "We  stand  here  upon  the  borders  of  two  worlds ;  and, 
as  the  mood  of  our  minds  may  be,  we  may  gather  lessons 
of  profound  wisdom  by  contrasting  the  one  with  the  other, 
or  indulge  in  the  dreams  of  hope  and  ambition,  or  solace 
our  hearts  by  melancholy  meditations. 

2.  Who  is  there,  that,  in  the  contemplation  of  such  a 
Bcene,  is  not  ready  to  exclaim,  with  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
poet : 

«  Mine  be  the  breezy  hill  that  skirts  the  down  i. 
Where  a  green,  grassy  turf  is  all  I  crave, 
With  here  and  there  a  violet  bestrown. 

Fast  by  a  brook,  or  fountain's  murmuring  wave ; 
And  may  the  evening  sun  shine  sweetly  on  my  graven" 


THE   FIFTH   READEK.  163 

8.  What  a  multitude  of  thoughts  crowd  upon  the  mind 
in  the  contemj)bition  of  such  a  scene !  How  much  of  the 
future,  even  in  its  far-distant  reaches^,  rises  before  us  with 
all  its  persuasive  realities!  Take  but  one  little,  narrow 
space  of  time,  and  how  affecting  are  its  associations  I 
Within  the  flight  of  one  half  century,  how  many  of  the 
great,  the  good,  and  the  wise  will  be  gathered  here ! 

4.  How  many  in  the  loveliness  of  infancy,  the  beauty 
of  youth,  the  vigor  of  manhood,  and  the  maturity  of  age, 
will  lie^down  here,  and  dwell  in  the  bosom  of  their  mother 
earth !  The  rich  and  the  poor,  the  gay  and  the  wretched, 
the  favorites  of  thousands,  and  the  forsaken  of  the  world, 
the  stranger  in  his  solitary  grave,  and  the  patriarch  sur- 
rounded by  the  kindred  of  a  long  lineage  ^ !  How  many 
will  here  bury  their  brightest  hopes,  or  blasted  expecta- 
tions !  How  many  bitter  tears  will  here  be  shed  !  How 
many  agonizing  sighs  will  here  be  heaved !  How  many 
trembling  feet  will  cross  the  pathways,  and,  returning, 
leave  behind  them  the  dearest  objects  of  their  reverence 
or  their  love ! 

5.  And  if  this  were  all,  sad  indeed,  and  funereal,  would 
be  our  thoughts ;  gloomy  indeed  would  be  these  shades, 
and  desolate  these  prospects. 

6.  But  —  thanks  be  to  God  —  the  evils  which  He  per- 
mits have  their  attendant  mercies,  and  are  blessings  in 
disguise.  The  bruised  reed  will  not  be  utterly  laid  pros- 
trate. The  wounded  heart  will  not  always  bleed.  The 
voice  of  consolation  will  spring  up  in  the  midst  of  the 
silence  of  these  regions  of  death.  The  mourner  will 
revisit  these  shades  with  a  secret,  though  melancholy 
pleasure.  The  hand  of  friendship  will  delight  to  cherish 
the  flowers  and  the  shrubs  that  fringe  the  lowly  grave  or 
the  sculptured  monument.  The  earliest  beams  of  the 
morning  will  play  upon  these  summits  with  a  refreshing 
cheerfulness,  and  the  lingering  tints  of  evening  hover  on 
them  with  a  tranquillizing  glow. 


164 


THE   FIFTH  READER. 


7.  Spring  will  invite  hither  the  footsteps  of  the  young 
by  its  opening  foliage,  and  autumn  detain  the  contempla- 
tive by  its  latest  bloom.  The  votary  of  learning  and 
science  will  here  learn  to  elevate  his  genius  by  the  holiest 
studies.  The  devout  will  here  offer  up  the  silent  tribute 
of  pity,  or  the  prayer  of  gratitude.  The  rivalries  of  the 
world  will  here  drop  from  the  heart ;  the  spirit  of  forgive- 
ness will  gather  new  impulses ;  the  selfishness  of  avarice 
will  be  checked ;  the  restlessness  of  ambition  will  be  re- 
buked; vanity  will  let  fall  its  plumes;  and  pride,  as  it 
sees  "what  shadows  we  are,  and  what  shadows  we  pur- 
sue," will  acknowledge  the  value  of  virtue  as  far,  immeas- 
urably far,  beyond  that  of  fame. 

8.  But  that  wliich  will  be  ever  present,  pervading  these 
shades  like  the  noonday  sun,  and  shedding  cheerfulness 
around,  is  the  consciousness,  the  irrepressible  conscious- 
ness, amidst  all  these  lessons  of  human  mortality,  of  the 
higlier  truth,  that  we  are  beings,  not  of  time,  but  of  eter- 
nity ;  that  "  this  corruptible  must  put  on  incorruption,  and 
this  mortal  must  put  on  immortality ; "  that  this  is  but  the 
threshold  and  starting  point  of  an  existence,  compared 
with  whose  duration  the  ocean  is  but  as  a  drop  —  nay,  the 
whole  creation  an  evanescent*  quantity. 


J  Do  v^iv.  A  tract  of  poor,  naked,  hilly- 
land. 

SREach'?^.  Extent;  extension; 
Bpaces  of  considerable  extent. 


8  LTn'e-a^e.    Desccndents  in  a  direct 

line. 
*  Ev-A-Nfis'CENT.     Vanishing;   fleets 

ingi  transitory. 


THE  FIFTH  EEADER.  165 

XL.— A  BATTLE  IN  THE  HIGHLANDS. 

Sir  Walter  Scott. 
[This  lesson  is  from  "  The  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  a  narrative  poem.] 

1.  Theee  is  no  breeze  upon  tlie  fern, 

No  ripple  on  the  lake, 
Upon  her  eyry'  nods  the  erne'', 

The  deer  has  sought  the  brake; 
The  small  birds  will  not  sing  aloud, 

The  springing  trout  lies  still, 
So  darkly  glooms  yon  thunder-cloud. 
That  swathes  ^,  as  with  a  i3urple  shroud, 

Bcnledi's"  distant  hill. 

2.  Is  it  the  thunder's  solemn  sound 

That  mutters  deep  and  dread. 
Or  echoes  from  the  groaning  ground 

The  warrior's  measured  tread  ? 
Is  it  the  lightning's  quivering  glance 

That  on  the  thicket  streams, 
Or  do  they  flash  on  spear  and  lance 

The  sun's  retiring  beams  ? 

.  3.  I  see  the  dagger-crest  of  Mar*, 
I  see  the  Moray's*  silver  star. 
Wave  o'er  the  cloud  of  Saxon  war. 
That  up  the  lake  comes  winding  far ! 
To  hero  bound  for  battle  strife 

Or  bard  of  martial  lay, 
*Twere  worth  ten  years  of  peaceful  life, 
One  glance  at  their  array. 

4    Their  light-armed  archers  far  and  near 

Surveyed  the  tangled  ground  ; 
Their  centre  ranks,  with  pike  and  spear, 

A  twilight  forest  frowned ; 
Their  barbed  horsemen,  in  the  rear, 


166  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

The  stern  battalia  °  crowned. 
No  cymbaF  clasliecl,  no  clarion®  rang, 

Still  were  the  pipe  ^  and  drum ; 
Save  heavy  tread  and  armor's  clang, 

Their  sullen  march  Avas  dumb. 

6.  There  breathed  no  wind  their  crests  to  shake^ 

Or  wave  their  flags  abroad ; 
Scarce  the  frail  aspen  seemed  to  quake, 

That  shadowed  o'er  their  road. 
Their  vaward  •"  scouts  no  tidings  bring, 

Can  rouse  no  lurking  foe, 
Nor  spy  a  trace  of  living  thing, 

Save  when  they  stirred  the  roe  "  ; 
The  host  moves,  like  a  deep-sea  wave, 
Where  rise  no  rocks  its  pride  to  brave, 

High-swelling,  dark,  and  slow. 

6.  The  lake  is  passed,  and  now  they  gain 
A  narrow  and  a  broken  plain 
Before  the  Trosachs'  ^^  rugged  jaws ; 
And  here  the  horse  and  spearmen  pause, 
While,  to  explore  the  dangerous  glen, 
Dive  through  the  pass  the  archer-men. 

7.  At  once  there  rose  so  wijd  a  yell 
Within  that  dark  and  narrow  dell. 
As  all  the  fiends  from  heaven  that  fell. 
Had  pealed  the  banner-cry  of  hell! 
Forth  from  the  pass  in  tumult  driven, 
Like  chaff  before  the  wind  of  heaven, 

The  archery  appear : 
For  life  !  for  life  !  their  flight  they  ply; 
And  shriek,  and  shout,  and  battle-cry, 
And  plaids  and  bonnets  waving  high, 
And  broadswords  flashing  to  the  sky, 

Are  maddening  in  the  rear. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  iQl 

Onward  they  drive,  in  dreadful  race, 

Pursuers  and  pursued ; 
Before  that  tide  of  flight  and  chase 
How  shall  it  keep  its  rooted  place, 

The  spearmen's  twilight  wood  ? 

8.  "  Down,  down,"  cried  Mar,  "  your  lances  down! 
Bear  back  both  friend  and  foe ! " 

Like  reeds  before  the  tempest's  frown, 
That  serried  "  grove  of  lances  brown 

At  once  lay  levelled  low ; 
And  closely  shouldering  side  to  side 
"The  bristling  ranks  the  onset  bide. 

"  We'll  quell  the  savage  mountaineer 
As  their  tinchelP*  cows  the  game ! 
They  come  as  fleet  as  forest  deer, 
We'll  drive  them  back  as  tame." 

9,  Bearing  before  them,  in  their  course, 
The  relics  of  the  archer  force, 

Like  wave  with  crest  of  sparkling  foam, 
Right  onward  did  Clan-Alpine  come. 

Above  their  tide  each  broadsword  bright 
Was  brandishing  like  beam  of  light, 

Each  targe  ^'  was  dark  below ; 
And  with  the  ocean's  mighty  swing. 
When  heaving  to  the  tempest's  wing, 
They  hurled  them  on  the  foe. 

10.   I  heard  the  lance's  shivering  crash, 
As  when  the  whirlwind  rends  the  ash ; 
I  heard  the  broadsword's  deadly  clang. 
As  if  a  hundred  anvils  rang ; 
But  Moray  wheeled  his  rearward  rank 
Of  horsemen  on  Clan-Alpine's  flank  *<*; 
"  My  banner-man  advance ! 


168 


THE  FIFTH  READER. 


"I  see,"  he  cried,  "their  column  shake  — 
Now,  gallants !  for  your  ladies'  sake. 
Upon  them  with  the  lance ! "  — • 

11.  The  horsemen  dashed  among  the  rout, 
As  deer  break  through  the  broom ; 
Their  steeds  are  stout,  their  swords  are  out; 
They  soon  make  lightsome  room. 
Clan- Alpine's  best  are  backward  borne, — 

Where,  where  was  Roderick,  then  ? 
One  blast  upon  his  bugle-horn 
Were  worth  a  thousand  men. 


12,  And  refluent"  through  the  pass  of  fear 

The  battle's  tide  was  poured ; 
Vanished  the  Saxon's  struggling  spear. 

Vanished  the  mountain  sword. 
As  Bracklinn's  chasm,  so  black  and  steep, 

Receives  her  roaring  linn  ^\ 
As  the  dark  caverns  of  the  deep 

Suck  the  wild  whirlpool  in, 
So  did  the  deep  and  darksome  pass 
Devour  the  battle's  mingled  mass ; 
None  linger  now  upon  the  plain, 
Save  those  who  ne'er  shall  fight  again. 


1  Eyr'v  (ir'e).  A  place  where  birds 
of  prey  build  their  nests. 

»  Erne.    The  sea  eagle. 

»  SwATHE§.    Encloses  ;  winds  about. 

♦  Ben-l£d'1.  a  mountain  in  Scot- 
land. 

«  Mar.        )  Names  of  Highland  chief- 

6  Mo-RAY.  \     tains. 

e  Bat-tal'ia     Order  of  battle. 

t  C^M'TSAt..  A  musical  instrument, 
consisting  of  two  pieces  of  metal 
which  are  struck  together. 

8  ClXr'i-on.  a  kind  of  trumpet  of  a 
shrill,  clear  tone. 


8  Pipe.    A  bagpipe ;  a  musical  instru- 
ment common  in  Scotland. 

10  Va'ward.    Vanward;  advanced. 

11  R5e.    Roebuck  ;  a  small  species  of 

deer. 

12  Tros'ajeh?.  a  narrow  pass  in  Scot- 

land. 

13  S£r'ried.     Close;  compact. 

14  TlN'cHfiLii.    A  circle  of  sportsmen, 

who  enclose  and  drive  in  the  deer, 

15  TXr(?^e.    Target ;  a  shield. 
18  FlAnk.    Side  of  an  army. 

"  RfiF'LV-fiNT.    Flowing  back. 
18  LiNN.    A  waterfall. 


THE   FIFTH  EEADEB.  169 

XLL  — ANECDOTE   OF  RICHARD  JACKSON. 

London  Quarterly  Eevikw. 

1.  DuEiNG  the  war  of  independence  in  North  America, 
a  plain  farmer,  Richard  Jackson  by  name,  was  appre- 
hended, mider  such  circumstances  as  proved,  beyond  all 
doubt,  his  purpose  of  joining  the  king's  forces,  an  in- 
tention which  he  was  too  honest  to  deny;  accordingly,  he 
was  delivered  over  to  the  high  sheriff,  and  committed  to 
the  county  jail.  The  prison  was  in  such  a  state  that  he 
might  have  found  little  difficulty  in  escaping;  but  he 
considered  himself  as  in  the  hands  of  authority,  such  as 
it  was,  and  the  same  principle  of  duty  which  led  him 
to  take  arms,  made  him  equally  ready  to  endure  the 
consequences. 

2.  After  lying  there  a  few  days,  he  applied  to  the  sheriff 
for  leave  to  go  out  and  work  by  day,  promising  that  he 
would  return  regularly  at  night.  His  character  for  simple 
integrity  was  so  well  known,  that  permission  was  given 
without  hesitation ;  and,  for  eight  months,  Jackson  went 
out  every  day  to  labor,  and  as  duly  came  back  to  prison  at 
night.  In  the  month  of  May,  the  sheriff  prepared  to  con- 
duct him  to  Springfield,  where  he  was  to  be  tried  for  high 
treason'.  Jackson  said  this  would  be  a  needless  trouble 
and  expense ;  he  could  save  the  sheriff  both,  and  go  just 
as  well  by  himself. 

3.  His  word  was  once  more  taken,  and  he  set  off  alone, 
to  present  himself  for  trial  and  certain  condemnation.  On 
the  way  he  was  overtaken  in  the  w^oods  by  Mr.  Edwards, 
a  member. of  the  council  of  Massachusetts,  which,  at  that 
time,  was  the  supreme  executive^  of  the  state.  This  gen- 
tleman asked  him  whither  he  was  going.  "To  Spring- 
field, sir,"  was  his  answer, "  to  be  tried  for  my  life."  To 
thia  casuaP   interview  Jackson  owed   his  escape,  when, 

15 


170  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

having  been  found  guilty,  and  condemned  to  death,  appli- 
cation was  made  to  the  council  for  mercy. 

4.  The  evidence  and  the  sentence  were  stated,  and  the 
president  put  the  question  whether  a  jDardon  should  be 
granted.  It  was  opposed  by  the  first  speaker :  the  case,  he 
said,  was  perfectly  clear;  the  act  was  unquestionably  high 
treason,  and  the  proof  complete ;  and  if  mercy  was  shown 
in  this  case,  he  saw  no  reason  why  it  should  not  be  granted 
in  every  other. 

5.  Few  governments  have  understood  how  just  and 
politic^  it  is  to  be  merciful:  this  hard-hearted  opinion 
accorded*  with  the  temper  of  the  times,  and  was  acquiesced  ° 
in  by  one  member  after  another,  till  it  came  to  Mr. 
Edwards's  turn  to  speak.  Instead  of  delivering  his  opinion, 
he  simjjly  related  the  whole  story  of  Jackson's  singular' 
demeanor^,  and  what  had  passed  between  them  in  the 
woods. 

6.  For  the  honor  of  Massachusetts,  and  of  human 
nature,  be  it  said,  not  a  man  was  found  to  weaken  its 
effect  by  one  of  those  dry,  legal  remarks,  which,  like 
a  blast  of  the  desert,  wither  the  heart  they  reach.  The 
council  began  to  hesitate,  and,  when  a  member  ven- 
tured to  say  that  such  a  man  certainly  ought  not  to 
be  sent  to  the  gallows,  a  natural  feeling  of  humanity  and 
justice  prevailed,  and  a  pardon  was  immediately  made 
out. 

7.  Never  was  a  stronger  proof  exhibited  that  honesty  is 
wisdom.  And  yet  it  was  not  the  man's  honesty,  but  his 
childlike  simplicity,  which  saved  his  life;  without  that  sim- 
plicity his  integrity  would  have  availed  him  little  :  in  fact, 
it  was  his  crime ;  for  it  was  for  doing  what,  according  to 
the  principles  wherein  he  had  been  born  and  bred,  he 
believed  to  be  his  duty,  that  he  was  brought  to  trial  and 
condemned.  This  it  is  which  renders  civil  and  religious 
wars  so  peculiarly  dreadful ;  and,  in  the  history  of  such 


THE  FIFTH  READER. 


171 


wars,  every  incident,  which  serves  to  reconcile  us  to 
humanity,  ought  carefully  to  be  preserved. 


I  High  trea'§ON.  The  crime  of  at- 
tempting to  overthrow  the  govern- 
meut. 

t  ]g;)f-£c'v-TiVE.  The  person  or  per- 
sons that  execute  the  laws  of  a 
state. 


3  C5§'v-Aii.     Happening   by  chance? 

accidental. 

4  P6l'i-t1c.    Prudent ;  judicious. 

6  Ac-QUi-£scED'  Ix.      Assented   toi" 

agreed  to. 
6  DJE-MiiAN'pa.    Behavior. 


I 


XLIL  — THE  ATMOSPHERE. 

Quarterly  Review. 

1.  The  atmosphere  rises  above  us,  with  its  cathedrar 
dome,  arching  towards  the  heavens,  to  which  it  is  the  most 
familiar  synonyme  ^  and  symbol.  It  floats  around  us  like 
that  grand  object  which  the  apostle  John  saw  in  his  vision 
—  "a  sea  of  glass  like  unto  crystal."  So  massive  is  it, 
that,  when  it  begins  to  stir,  it  tosses  about  great  ships  like 
playthings,  and  sweeps  cities  and  forests  to  destruction 
before  it.  And  yet  it  is  so  mobile^,  that  we  live  years 
in  it  before  we  can  be  persuaded  that  it  exists  at  all; 
and  the  great  bulk  of  mankind  never  realize  the  truth  that 
they  are  bathed  in  an  ocean  of  air.  Its  weight  is  so  enor- 
mous that  iron  shivers  before  it  like  glass;  yet  a  soap 
bubble  sails  through  it  with  impunity,  and  the  tiniest 
insect  waves  it  aside  with  its  wing. 

2.  It  ministers  lavishly  to  all  the  senses.  We  touch  it 
n  ot ;  but  it  touches  us.  Its  warm  south  wind  brings  back 
color  to  the  pale  face  of  the  invalid ;  its  cool  west  winds 
refresh  the  fevered  brow,  and  make  the  blood  mantle  in 
our  cheeks ;  even  its  northern  blasts  brace  into  new  vigor 
the  hardy  children  of  our  rugged  clime. 

3.  The  eye  is  indebted  to  it  for  all  the  magnificence 
of  sunrise,  the  full  brightness  of  midday,  the  chastened* 


172 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


radiance  of  the  " gloaming V  and  the  "clouds  that  cradle 
near  the  setting  sun."  But  for  it  the  rainbow  would  want 
its  "triumphal  arch,"  and  the  winds  would  not  send 
their  fleecy  messengers  on  errands  round  the  heavens. 
The  cold  weather  would  not  shed  its  snow  feathers  on  the 
earth,  nor  would  drops  of  dew  gather  on  the  flowers. 
The  kindly  rain  would  never  fall,  nor  hailstorm  nor  fog 
diversify  ®  the  face  of  the  sky.  Our  naked  globe  would  turn 
its  tanned  and  unshadowed  forehead  to  the  sun,  and  one 
dreary,  monotonous  blaze  of  light  and  heat  dazzle  and 
burn  up  all  things. 

4.  Were  there  no  atmosphere,  the  evening  sun  would 
/n  a  moment  set,  and  without  warning  plunge  the  earth  in 
darkness.  But  the  air  keeps  in  her  hand  a  sheaf  of  his 
rays,  and  lets  them  slip  slowly  through  her  fingers ;  so 
that  the  shadows  of  evening  gather  by  degrees,  and  the 
flowers  have  time  to  bow  their  heads,  and  each  creature 
space  to  find  a  place  of  rest,  and  nestle  to  repose.  In  the 
morning,  the  gairish'  sun  would  at  once  burst  from  the 
bosom  of  night,  and  blaze  above  the  horizon ;  but  the  air 
watches  for  his  coming,  and  sends  at  first  one  little  ray  to 
announce  his  approach,  apd  then  another,  and  by  and  by 
a  handful ;  and  so  gently  draws  aside  the  curtain  of  niglit, 
and  slowly  lets  the  light  fall  on  the  face  of  the  sleeping 
earth,  till  her  eyelids  open,  and,  like  man,  she  "  goeth  forth 
jigain  to  her  labor  till  the  evening." 


I  CA-Tiifi'DRAii.     A  church  of  very 

large  size. 
«  SJn'p-n^me.    One  of  two  or  more 

words  having  the  same  or  a  similar 


3  MoB'iLE.    Movable ;  light. 

4  Ciiast'ened  (cha'snd).    Pure. 

5  Gloam'ing.    Twilight, 

6  Di-viiR'si-F?,    Give  variety  to. 

7  GAlR'jSH.    Gaudy  j  brightly  shining. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  173 


XLIIL  — SONG  OF  THE  UNION. 

CUMMIXGS. 

[Rev.  Dr.  Cummings,  a  Catholic  clorg-yman,  was  pastor  of  St.  Stephen's 
€hurch,  New  York.    He  died  January  4,  18G0.] 

1.  Ere  peace  and  freedom,  hand  in  hand, 
Went  forth  to  bless  this  happy  land, 

And  make  it  their  abode, 
It  was  the  footstool  of  a  throne ; 
But  now  no  master  here  is  known  — 

No  king  is  feared  but  God. 

2.  Americans  uprose  in  might, 

And  triumphed  in  the  unequal  fight, 

For  union  made  them  strong ; 
Union !  the  magic  battle-cry. 
That  hurled  the  tyrant  from  on  high, 
And  crushed  his  hireling  throng ! 

3.  That  word  since  then  hath  shone  on  high, 
In  starry  letters  to  the  sky  — 

It  is  our  country's  name ! 
What  impious  hand  shall  rashly  dare 
Down  from  its  lofty  peak  to  tear 

The  banner  of  her  fame  ? 

4.  The  spirits  of  the  heroic  dead, 
Who  for  Columbia  fought  and  bled, 

Would  curse  the  dastard  son 
Who  should  betray  their  noble  trust, 
And  madly  trample  in  the  dust. 

The  charter  ^  which  they  won. 

5   From  vast  Niagara's  gurgling  roar 
To  Sacramento's  golden  shore, 
15* 


174  THE   FIFTH   EEADER. 

From  east  to  western  wave, 
The  blended  ^  vows  of  millions  rise, 
Their  voice  reechoes  to  the  skies  — 

"  The  Union  we  must  save ! " 

6.  The  God  of  nations,  in  whose  name 
The  sacred  laws  obedience  claim, 

Will  bless  our  fond  endeavor 
To  dwell  as  brethren  here  below ; 
The  Union,  then,  come  weal^,  come  woe, 

We  will  preserve  forever ! 

I  ChIr'teb.     a  written  instrument,  I  2  Bl£nd'?d.    Mingled. 

bestowing  riglits  or  privileges.       I  s  W£al.    Happiness  j  prosperity. 


XLIV.  —  THE  BURIAL  OF  MOSES. 

["  And  he  buried  him  in  a  valley  in  the  land  of  Moab,  over  against  Bethpeor 
but  no  man  knoweth  of  his  sepulchre  unto  this  day."  —  Deut.  xxxiv.  6.] 

1.  By  Nebo's  lonely  mountain. 

On  this  side  Jordan's  wave, 
In  a  vale  in  the  land  of  Moab, 

There  lies  a  lonely  grave. 
And  no  man  dug  that  sepulchre. 

And  no  man  saw  it  e'er ; 
For  the  angels  of  God  upturned  the  sod, 

And  laid  the  dead  man  there. 

2.  That  was  the  grandest  funeral 

That  ever  passed  on  earth ; 
But  no  man  heard  the  trampling. 

Or  saw  the  train  go  forth. 
Noiselessly  as  the  daylight 

Comes  when  the  night  is  done, 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  175 

And  the  crimson  streak  on  ocean's  cTieek 
Grows  into  the  great  sun,  — 

3.  Noiselessly  as  the  spring  time 

Her  crown  of  verdure  weaves, 
And  all  the  trees  on  all  the  hills 

Open  their  thousand  leaves,  — 
So,  without  sound  of  music 

Or  voice  of  them  that  wept. 
Silently  down  from  the  mountain  crown 

The  great  procession  swept. 

4.  Perchance  the  bald  old  eagle. 

On  gray  Bethpeor's  height. 
Out  of  his  rocky  eyry 

Looked  on  the  wondrous  sight. 
Perchance  the  lion  stalking  \ 

Still  shuns  that  hallowed  spot, 
For  beast  and  bird  have  seen  and  heard 

That  which  man  knoweth  not. 

5.  But  when  the  warrior  dieth, 

His  comr^es  in  the  war. 
With  arms  reversed  and  muffled  *  drum, 

Follow  the  funeral  car. 
They  show  the  banners  taken, 

They  tell  his  battles  won. 
And  after  him  lead  his  masterless  steed, 

While  peals  the  minute  gun. 

6.  Amid  the  noblest  of  the  land 

Men  lay  the  sage  to  rest. 
And  give  the  bard  an  honored  place 
With  costly  marble  dressed. 
^  In  the  great  minster  transept', 


176  THE   FIFTH  READER. 

Where  lights  like  glories  fall, 
And  the  sweet  choir  *  sings,  and  the  organ  rings^ 
Along  the  emblazoned^  wall. 

7.  This  was  the  bravest  warrior 
'      That  ever  buckled  sword ; 

This  the  most  gifled  poet 

That  ever  breathed  a  word ; 
And  never  earth's  philosopher 

Traced,  with  his  golden  pen, 
On  the  deathless  page,  truths  half  so  sage, 

As  he  wrote  down  for  men. 

8.  And  had  he  not  high  honor  ? 

The  hill  side  for  his  pall ; 
To  lie  in  state  while  angels  wait 

With  stars  for  tapers  tall ; 
And  the  dark  rock  pines,  like  tossing  plumes, 

Over  his  bier  to  wave ; 
And  God's  own  hand,  in  that  lonely  land, 

To  lay  him  in  the  grave  ; 

9.  In  that  deep  grave,  without  a  name, 

Whence  his  uncofRned  clay 
Shall  break  again  —  most  wondrous  thought !  — 

Before  the  judgment  day. 
And  stand  with  glory  wrapped  around 

On  the  hills  he  never  trod. 
And  speak  of  the  strife  that  won  our  life 

With  the  Incarnate  ^  Son  of  God, 

10.  O  lonely  tomb  in  Moab's  land, 
O  dark  Bethpeor's  hill. 
Speak  to  these  curious  hearts  of  ours, 
And  teach  them  to  be  still. 


THE  FIFTH  READER. 


177 


God  hath  his  mysteries  of  grace  — 

Ways  that  we  cannot  tell ; 
lie  hides  them  deep,  like  the  secret  sleep 

Of  him  he  loved  so  well. 


1  StAlk'ing,  Stealthily  walking  in 
search  of  prey. 

•  MOf'fled.  Having  something 
wound  round  so  as  to  render  the 
sound  low  or  solemn. 

8  MIn'ster  TrAn's£pt.  A  minater 
is  a  monastic  or  a  cathedral  church. 
The  ground  plan  of  minsters  is 
usually  in  the  form  of  a  cross,  with 
one  long  aisle  and  a  short  one 
crosBing  it.     The  cross  aisle  is 


called  the  transept.  The  transept 
divides  the  long  aisle  into  two  un- 
equal parts,  the  longer  of  which 
is  called  the  nave,  and  the  other 
the  choir. 

*  jBiioiR.  A  band  of  singers  in  church 
service ;  also,  the  part  of  a  church 
where  the  singers  are  placed. 

5  Em-bla' ZONED,  Adorued  with  ar- 
morial ensigns  or  badges. 

8  |n-cXr'n^T£.    Embodied  in  flesh. 


XLV.— MOTIVES  TO  INTELLECTUAL  ACTION  IN 
AMERICA. 

Geokge  S.  Hillard. 

1.  The  motives  to  intellectual*  action  press  upon  us 
with  peculiar  force,  in  our  country,  because  the  connection 
is  here  so  immediate  between  character  and  happiness,  and 
because  there  is  nothing  between  us  and  ruin,  but  intelli-c 
gence  which  sees  the  right,  and  virtue  which  pursues  it, 
There  are  such  elements  of  hope  and  fear,  mingled  in  th* 
great  experiment  which  is  here  trying,  the  results  are  so 
momentous  to  humanity,  that  all  the  voices  of  the  past 
and  the  future  seem  to  blend  in  one  sound  of  warning  and 
entreaty,  addressing  itself  not  only  to  the  general,  but  tq 
the  individual  ear. 

2.  By  the  wrecks  of  shattered  states,  by  the  quenched 
lights  of  promise  that  once  shone  upon  man,  by  the  long- 
deferred  hopes  of  humanity,  by 'all  that  has  been  done 
and  suffered  in  the  cause  of  liberty,  by  the  martyrs  that 
died  before  the  sight,  by  the  exiles  whose  hearts  have 


178  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

been  crushed  in  dumb  despair,  by  the  memory  of  out 
fathers  and  their  blood  in  our  veins,  —  it  calls  upon  us, 
each  and  all,  to  be  faithful  to  the  trust  which  God  has 
committed  to  our  hands. 

3.  That  fine  natures  should  here  feel  their  energies  pal- 
sied by  the  cold  touch  of  indifference,  that  they  should 
turn  to  Westminster  Abbey  *  or  the  Alps,  or  the  Vatican ,t 
to  quicken  their  flagging  pulses,  is  of  all  mental  anoma- 
lies '  the  most  inexplicable.  The  danger  would  seem  to 
bo  rather  that  the  spring  of  a  sensitive  mind  may  be  broken 
by  the  weight  of  obligation  that  rests  upon  it,  and  that  the 
stimulant,  by  its  very  excess,  may  become  a  narcotic  ^ 

4.  The  poet  must  not  plead  his  delicacy  of  organization 
as  an  excuse  for  dwelling  apart  in  trim  gardens  of  leisure, 
and  looking  at  the  world  only  through  the  loopholes  of  his 
retreat.  Let  him  fling  himself,  with  a  gallant  heart,  upon 
the  stirring  life,  that  heaves  and  foams  around  him.  He 
must  call  home  his  imagination  from  those  spots  on  which 
the  light  of  other  days  has  thrown  its  pensive  charm,  and 
be  content  to  dwell  among  his  own  people.  The  future 
and  the  present  must  inspire  him,  and  not  the  past.  He 
must  transfer  to  his  pictures  the  glow  of  morning,  and  not 
the  hues  of  sunset. 

5.  He  must  not  go  to  any  foreign  Phai-par  or  AbanaJ 
for  the  sweet  influences  w^hich  he  may  find  in  that  familiar 
stream,  on  whose  banks  he  has  played  as  a  child,  and 
mused  as  a  man.  Let  him  dedicate  his  powers  to  the 
best  interests  of  his  country.  Let  him  sow  the  seeds  of 
beauty  along  that  dusty  road,  where  humanity  toils  and 
sweats  in  the  sun.  Let  him  spurn  the  baseness  which 
ministers  food  to  the  passions,  that  blot  out   in  man's 


*  W£st-mTn'ster  Xb'bey.    A  church  m  London,  where  there  are  monu- 
ments to  many  of  England's  great  men. 
t  VAt'j-cAn.    a  palace  and  museum  of  art  in  Eome. 
J:  PhXr'p^r  and  Ab'a-n^.    Names  of  rivers  in  Syria.    See  2  Kings  v.  12. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  179 

« 

Boul  the  image  of  God.  Let  not  his  hands  add  one  seduc 
tive  charm  to  the  unzoned  form  of  pleasure,  nor  twine  the 
roses  of  his  genius  around  the  reveller's  wine-cup. 

6.  Let  him  mingle  with  his  verse  those  grave  and  high 
elements  befitting  him  around  wiiom  the  air  of  freedom 
blows,  and  upon  whom  the  light  of  heaven  shines.  Let 
him  teach  those  stern  virtues  of  self-control 'and  self-renun- 
ciation, of  faith  and  patience,  of  abstinence  and  fortitude, 
—  which  constitute  the  foundations  alike  of  individual  hap- 
piness,^ and  of  national  prosperity;' •  Let  him  help  to  rear 
up  this  great  people  to  the  stature  and  symmetry  of  a 
moral  manhood.  Let  him  look  abroad  upon  this  young 
world  in  hope  and  not  in  despondency. 

7.  Let  him  not  be  repelled  by  the  coarse  surface  of 
material  life.  Let  him  survey  it  with  the  piercing  insight 
of  genius,  and  in  the  reconciling  spirit  of  love.  Let  him 
find  inspiration  wherever  man  is  found ;  —  in  the  sailor  sing- 
ing at  the  windlass^;  in  the  roaring  flames  of  the  furnace; 
in  the  dizzy  spindles  of  the  factory ;  in  the  regular  beat  of 
the  thresher's  flail ;  in  the  smoke  of  the  steamship ;  in  the 
whistle  of  the  locomotive.  Let  the  mountain  wind  blow 
courage  into  him.  Let  him  pluck,  from  the  stars  of  his 
own  wintry  sky,  thoughts,  serene  as  their  own  light,  lofty 
as  their  own  place.  Let  the  purity  of  the  majestic  heavens 
flow  into  his  soul.  Let  his  genius  soar  upon  the  wings  of 
faith,  and  charm  with  the  beauty  of  truth. 

1  In-tel-l£ct'v-al.  Mental;  rela- 1  3  Nar-c6t'ic.  A  chemical  agent  pro- 
ting-  to  the  intellect,  ducing  sleep  or  stupor. 

s  A-n6m'a-lie§.  Irregularities  j  devi-  *  WInd'lass.  A  machine  for  drawing 
ations  IJrom  rule.  |        towards  itself  heayy  burdens. 


180  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

XLVL— THE  PINE  TREE  SHILLINGS. 

IlAWTIIORXE. 

[Nathaniel  Hawthorne  was  an  American  author,  remarkable  for  his  original 
genius  and  the  transparent  beauty  of  liis  style.  He  was  born  July  4,  1804, 
and  died  May  19,  18(H.  This  lesson  is  taken  from  a  work  written  by  him, 
called  the  Whole  History  of  Grandfather's  Chair.  An  old  man  is  represented 
as  possessed  of  a  curious  old  chair,  which  had  been  brought  to  New  England 
witli  tlie  earliest  settlers  from  Europe.  His  grandchildren  ask  him  to  relate 
tlie  adventures  of  tliis  chair :  and  in  doing  so,  lie  tells  tliem  anecdotes  of  men 
distinguished  in  early  New  Eogjand  history,  into  whose  hands  he  imagines 
the  chair  to  have  successivel;|^|dBCd.j 

1.  Captain  John  Hull  was  the  mint-master  of  Massa- 
chusetts, and  coined  all  the  money  that  was  made  there. 
This  was  a  new  line  of  business ;  for,  in  the  earlier  days 
of  the  colony,  the  current  coinage  consisted  of  gold  and 
silver  money  of  England,  Portugal,  and  Spain.  These 
coins  being  scarce,  the  people  were  often  forced  to  barter 
their  commodities  instead  of  selling  them. 

2.  For  instance,  if  a  man  wanted  to  buy  a  coat,  he  per- 
haps exchanged  a  bear-skin  for  it.  If  he  wished  for  a 
barrel  of  molasses,  he  might  purchase  it  with  a  pile  of  pine 
boards.  Musket  bullets  were  used  instead  of  farthings*. 
The  Indians  had  a  sort  of  money,  called  wampum,  which 
was  made  of  clam-shells;  and  this  strange  sor**  of  specie 
was  likewise  taken  in  payment  of  debts  by  the  English 
settlers.  Bank  bills  had  never  been  heard  of.  There  was 
not  money  enough  of  any  kind,  in  many  parts  of  the 
country,  to  pay  the  salaries  of  the  ministers ;  so  that  they 
sometimes  had  to  take  quintals'^  of  fish,  bushels  of  corn,  or 
cords  of  wood,  instead  of  silver  or  gold. 

3.  As  the  people  grew  more  numerous,  and  their  trade, 
one  with  another,  increased,  the  want  of  current  money 
was  still  more  sensibly  felt.  To  supply  the  demand,  the 
General  Court  passed  a  law  for  establishing  a  coinage  of 
shillings,  sixpences,  and  threepences.  Captain  John  Hull 
was  appointed  to  manufacture  this  money,  and  was  to 


J 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  18l 

have  about  one  shilling  out  of  every  twenty  to  pay  him 
for  the  trouble  of  making  them. 

4.  Hereupon  all  the  old  silver  in  the  colony  was  handed 
over  to  Captain  John  Hull.  The  battered  silver  cans  and 
tankards^,  I  suppose,  and  silver  buckles,  and  broken 
spoons,  and  silver  buttons  of  worn-out  coats,  and  silver 
hilts  of  swords  that  had  figured  at  court,  —  all  such  curious 
old  articles  were  doubtless  thrown  into  the  melting-pot 
together.  But  by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  silver  con^ 
sisted  of  bullion"  from  the  mines  J|||6outh  America,  which 
the  English  buccaneers*  —  who^^re  little  better  than 
pirates  —  had  taken  from  the  Spaniards,  and  brought  to 
Massachusetts. 

5.  All  this  old  and  new  silver  being  melted  down  and 
coined,  the  result  was  an  immense  amount  of  splendid 
shillings,  sixpences,  and  threepences.  Each  had  the  date, 
1652,  on  the  one  side,  and  the  figure  of  a  pine  tree  on  the 
other.  Hence  they  were  called  pine  tree  shillings.  And 
for  every  twenty  shillings  that  he  coined,  you  will  remem- 
ber. Captain  John  Hull  was  entitled  to  put  one  shilling 
into  his  own  pocket. 

6.  The  magistrates  soon  began  to  suspect  that  the  mint- 
master  would  have  the  best  of  the  bargain.  They  offered 
him  a  large  sum  of  money  if  he  would  but  give  up  that 
twentieth  shilling  which  he  was  continually  dropping  into 
his  own  pocket.  But  Captain  Hull  declared  himself  per- 
fectly satisfied  with  the  shilling. 

7.  And  well  he  might  be  ;  for  so  diligently  did  he  labor, 
that,  in  a  few  years,  his  pockets,  his  money  bags,  and  his 
strong-box  ^  were  overflowing  with  pine  tree  shillings.  This 
was  probably  the  case  when  he  came  into  possession  of 
grandfather's  chair ;  and  as  he  had  worked  so  hard  at  the 
mint,  it  was  certainly  proper  that  he  should  have  a  com- 
fortable chair  to  rest  himself  in. 

8.  When  the  mint-master  had  grown  very  rich,  a  young 

16 


182  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

man,  Samuel  Sewell  by  name,  came  a-courting  to  his  only 
daughter.  His  daughter  —  whose  name  I  do  not  know, 
but  we  will  call  her  Betsey  —  was  a  fine,  hearty  damsel, 
by  no  means  so  slender  as  some  young  ladies  of  our  own 
days.  On  the  contrary,  having  always  fed  heartily  on 
pumpkin  pies,  doughnuts,  Indian  puddings,  and  other 
Puritan  dainties,  she  was  as  round  and  plump  as  a  pud- 
ding herself. 

9.  With  this  round,  rosy  Miss  Betsey  did  Samuel 
Sewell  fall  in  lov^^w  he  was  a  young  man  of  good 
character,  industrioiJ^m  his  business,  and  a  member  of 
the  church,  the  mint-master  very  readily  gave  his  consent. 
"  Yes,  you  may  take  her,"  said  he,  in  his  rough  way ;  "  and 
you'll  find  her  a  heavy  burden  enough  ! " 

10.  On  the  wedding  day,  we  may  suppose  that  honest 
John  Hull  dressed  himself  in  a  plum-colored  coat,  all  the 
buttons  of  which  were  made  of  pine  tree  shillings.  The 
buttons  of  his  waistcoat  were  sixpences ;  and  the  knees 
of  his  smallclotlies ""  were  buttoned  with  silver  threepences. 
Thus  attired,  he  sat  with  great  dignity  in  grandfather's 
chair ;  and,  being  a  portly  ^  old  gentleman,  he  completely 
filled  it  from  elbow  to  elbow.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the 
room,  between  her  bridemaids,  sat  Miss  Betsey.  She  was 
blushing  with  all  her  might,  and  looked  like  %  full-blown 
peony  or  a  great  red  apple. 

11.  There,  too,  was  the  bridegroom,  dressed  in  a  fine 
purple  coat  and  gold  lace  waistcoat,  with  as  much  other 
finery  as  the  Puritan  laws  and  customs  would  allqw  him 
to  put  on.  His  hair  was  cropped  close  to  his  head,  because 
Governor  Endicott  had  forbidden  any  man  to  wear  it 
below  the  ears.  But  he  was  a  very  personable®  young 
man ;  and  so  thought  the  bridemaids  and  Miss  Betsey 
herself. 

12.  The  mint-master  also  was  pleased  with  his  new  son- 
in-law,  especially  as  he  had  courted  Miss  Betsey  out  of 


THE   FIFTH  EEADEE.  183 

pure  love,  and  had  said  nothing  at  all  about  her  portion. 
So,  when  the  marriage  ceremony  was  over,  Captain  Hull 
whispered  a  word  to  two  of  his  men  servants,  who  imme- 
diately went  out,  and  soon  returned,  lugging  in  a  large 
pair  of  scales.  They  were  such  a  pair  as  wholesale  '* 
merchants  use  for  weighing  bulky  commodities ;  and 
quite  a  bulky  commodity  was  now  to  be  weighed  in 
them. 

13.  "  Daughter  Betsey,"  said  the  mint-master,  "get  into 
one  side  of  these  scales."  ^^^ 

Miss  Betsey  —  or  Mrs.  Sewell,  Hl^  must  now  call  her 
—  did  as  she  was  bid,  like  a  dutiful  child,  without  any 
question  of  the  why  and  wherefore.  But  what  her  father 
could  mean,  unless  to  make  her  husband  pay  for  her  by  the 
pound  (in  which  case  she  would  have  been  a  dear  bar- 
gain), she  had  not  the  least  idea. 

14.  "And  now,"  said  honest  John  Hull  to  the  sei-vants, 
"bring  that  box  hither."  The  box  to  which  the  mint- 
master  pointed  was  a  huge,  square,  iron-bound,  oaken 
chest;  it  was  big  enough,  my  children,  for  all  four  of  you 
to  play  at  hide-and-seek  in.  The  servants  tugged  with 
might  and  main,  but  could  not  lift  this  enormous  recep- 
tacle", and  were  finally  obliged  to  drag  it  across  the  floor. 

15.  Captain  Hull  then  took  a  key  from  his  girdle,  un- 
locked the  chest,  and  lifted  its  ponderous  lid.  Behold,  it 
was  full  to  the  brim  of  bright  pine  tree  shillings,  fresh 
from  the  mint ;  and  Samuel  Sewell  began  to  think  that 
his  father-in-law  had  got  possession  of  all  the  money  in 
the  Massachusetts  treasury.  But  it  was  only  the  mint- 
master's  honest  share  of  the  coinage. 

16.  Then  the  servants,  at  Captain  Hull's  command, 
heaped  double  handfuls  of  shillings  into  one  side  of  the 
scales,  while  Betsey  remained  in  the  other.  Jingle,  jingle, 
went  the  shillings,  as  handful  after  handful  was  thrown  in, 
till,  plump  and  ponderous  as  she  was,  they  fairly  weighed 
the  young  lady  from  the  floor. 


184 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


17.  "There,  son  Sewell!"  cried  the  honest  mint-master, 
resuming  his  seat  in  grandfather's  chair,  "  take  these  shil- 
lings for  my  daughter's  portion.  Use  her  kindly,  and 
thank  Heaven  for  her.  It  is  not  every  wife  that's  worth 
her  weiorht  in  silver ! " 


1  FXr'tiiing.  An  English  coin,  four 
of  wliich  make  a  penny,  equal  iu 
value  to  about  half  a  cent. 

s  auiN'TAL..  A  gross  weight  of  a 
hundred  pounds. 

B  TAnk'^rd.  a  drinklng^tf|^l  with 
a  lid  or  cover.  ^^^ 

4  BOll'iqn.  Gold  or  silver  in  mass, 
uncoined. 

»  BOc'CA-NEER.  A  naval  adventurer  ; 
generally,  a  pirate. 


•  Str6ng'-b6x.  a  box  or  safe  for 
holding  money,  or  otliar  valuables. 

J  Small'cl.othe§.    Breeches. 

8  PoRT'LV.    Large;  stout. 

»  Per'8QN-a-ble.  Grood  looking  ;  at- 
tractive. 

10  WiioLE'sALE.     Pertaining    to    or 

dealing  in  goods  in  large  quanti- 
ties. 

11  Re-c£p't^-cle.    a  vessel  or  place 

for  containing  something. 


XLVIL  — BEHIND   TIME. 
Freeman  Hunt. 

1.  A  RAILROAD  train  was  rushing  along  at  almost  light- 
ning speed.  A  curve  was  just  ahead,  beyond  which  was 
a  station  at  which  the  cars  usually  passed  each  other. 
The  conductor  was  late,  so  late  that  the  period  during 
which  the  down  train  was  to  wait  had  nearly  elapsed ;  but 
he  hoped  yet  to  pass  the  curve  safely.  Suddenly  a  lo- 
comotive dashed  into  sight  right  ahead.  In  an  instant 
there  was  a  collision.  A  shriek,  a  shock,  and  fifty  souls 
were  in  eternity ;  and  all  because  an  engineer  had  been 
behind  time. 

2.  A  great  battle  was  going  on.  Column*  after  column 
had  been  precipitated  for  eight  mortal  hours  on  the  enemy 
posted  along  the  ridge  of  a  hill.  The  summer  sun  was 
Binking  to  the  west;  reenforcements **  for  the  obstinate 
defenders  were  already  in  sight ;  it  was  necessary  to  carry 
the  position  with  one  final  charge,  or  every  thing  would 
be  lost.  . 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  185 

3.  A  powerful  corps  had  been  summoned  from  across  the 
country,  and  if  it  came  up  in  season  all  would  yet  be  well. 
The  great  conqueror,  confident  in  its  arrival,  formed  his  re- 
serve ^  into  an  attacking  column,  and  ordered  them  to  charge 
the  enemy.  The  whole  world  knows  the  result.  Grouchy* 
failed  to  appear;  the  imperial  guard  was  beaten  back; 
Waterloo  was  lost.  Napoleon  died  a  prisoner  at  St.  Helena 
because  one  of  his  marshals  was  behind  time. 

4.  A  leading  firm  in  commercial  circles  had  long  strug- 
gled against  bankruptcy.  As  it  h^j^normous  assets*  in 
California,  it  expected  remittances  by  a  certain  day,  and 
if  the  sums  promised  arrived,  its  credit,  its  honor,  and  its 
future  prosperity  would  be  preserved.  But  week  after 
week  elapsed  without  bringing  the  gold.  At  last  came 
the  fatal  day  on  which  the  firm  had  bills  maturing '  to 
enormous  amounts.  The  steamer  was  telegraphed  at  day- 
break ;  but  it  was  found,  on  inquiry,  that  she  brought  d^ 
funds,  and  the  house  failed.  Tile  next  arrival  brought 
nearly  half  a  million  to  the  insolvents  ^  but  it  was  too  late ; 
they  were  ruined  because  their  agent,  in  remitting,  had 
been  behind  time. 

5.  A  condemned  man  was  led  out  for  execution.  He 
had  taken  human  life,  but  under  circumstances  of  the 
greatest  provocation,  and  public  sympathy  was  active  in 
his  behalf.  Thousands  had  signed  petitions  for  areprieve% 
a  favorable  answer  had  been  expected  the  night  before, 
and  though  it  had  not  come,  even  the  sherifi*felt  confident 
that  it  would  yet  arrive  in  season.  Thus  the  morning 
passed  without  the  appearance  of  the  messenger.  The 
last*  moment  was  up.  The  prisoner  took  his  place  on  the 
drop,  the  cap  was  drawn  over  his  eyes,  the  bolt  was  drawn, 


*  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  emperor  of  France,  was  defeated  by  the  Allies  under 
the  Duke  of  Wellington,  at  Waterloo,  June  18, 1815.  Marshal  Grouchy  {prO' 
nounced  Gr6-she')  was  expected  to  aid  the  emperor  with  a  body  of  troops,  but 
failed  to  appear. 

16* 


186 


THE  FIFTH  READER. 


and  a  lifeless  body  swung  revolving  in  the  wind.  Just  at 
that  moment  a  horseman  came  into  sight,  galloping  down 
hill,  his  steed  covered  with  foam.  He  carried  a  packet  in 
his  right  hand,  which  he  waved  rapidly  to  the  crowd. 
He  was  the  express  rider  with  the  reprieve.  But  he  had 
come  too  late.  A  comparatively  innocent  man  had  died 
an  ignominious  death,  because  a  watch  had  been  five  min- 
utes too  slow,  making  its  bearer  arrive  behind  time. 

6.  It  is  continually  so  in  life.  The  best  laid  plans,  the 
most  important  affaimjthe  fortunes  of  individuals,  the  weal 
of  nations,  honor,  happiness,  life  itself,  are  daily  sacrificed 
because  somebody  is  "  behind  time."  There  are  men  who 
always  fail  in  whatever  they  undertake,  simply  because 
they  are  "  behind  time."  There  are  others  who  put  off 
reformation  year  by  year,  till  death  seizes  them,  and  they 
perish  unrepentant,  because  forever  "  behind  time."  Five 
minutes  in  a  crisis  is  worth  years.  It  is  but  a  little  period, 
yet  it  has  often  saved  a  fortune  or  redeemed  a  people.  If 
there  is  one  virtue  that  should  be  cultivated  more  than 
another  by  him  who  would  succeed  in  fife,  it  is  punctu- 
ality ;  if  there  is  one  error  that*  should  be  avoided  it  is 
being  behind  time. 


1  CSii'VMN.  A  body  of  troops  in  deep 
files,  with  narrow  front. 

«  Re-¥nforce'ments.  Supplies  of 
additional  troops. 

»  Re-§Mrve',  a  select  body  of  troops 
kept  in  the  rear  of  an  army  in  ac- 
tion, to  give  support  when  re- 
quired. 


4  As'SETS.    Property  or  effects. 

6  M^-tur'ing.  Ripening' ;  coming  to 
a  perfected  state.  Bills  or  notes 
mature  when  they  become  due. 

6  In-s6i.'vent.    One  who  cannot  pay 

his  debts. 

7  R¥-PRiEVE',    A  sugpension  of  a  sen- 

tence of  death. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  187 

XLVIII.  — EVIL  INFLUENCE  OF  SCEPTICISM. 

Campbell. 

O,  LIVES  there,  Heaven  !   beneath  thy  dread  expanse, 

One  hopeless,  dark  idolater  of  Chance, 

Content  to  feed,  with  pleasures  unrefined, 

The  lukewarm  passions  of  a  lowly  mind; 

Who,  mouldering  earthward,  reft '  of  every  trust. 

In-joyless  union  wedded  to  the.^iust. 

Could  all  his  parting  energy  dismiss. 

And  call  this  barren  world  sufficient  bliss  ?  — 

There  live,  alas !  of  heaven-directed  mien, 
Of  cultured  soul,  and  sapient  ^  eye  serene, 
Who  hail  thee,  Man !  the  pilgrim  of  a  day, 
Spouse  of  the  worm,  and  brother  of  the  clay ! 
Frail  as  the  leaf  in  Autumn's  yellow  bower, 
Dust  in  the  wind,  or  dew  upon  the  flower ! 
A  friendless  slave,  a  child  wi+,hout  a  sire, 
Whose  mortal  life,  and  momentary  fire. 
Lights  to  the  grave  his  chance-created  form, 
As  ocean -wrecks  illuminate  the  storm ; 
And,  when  the  gun's  tremendous  flash  is  o'er, 
To  night  and  sflence  sink  for  evermore !  — 

Are  these  the  pompous  tidings  ye  proclaim. 
Lights  of  the  world,  and  demigods  ^  of  Fame  ? 
Is  this  your  triumph,  this  your  proud  applause, 
Children  of  Truth,  and  champions  of  her  cause  ? 
For  this  hath  Science  searched,  on  weary  wing. 
By  shore  and  sea,  each  mute  and  living  thing  ? 
Launched  with  Iberia's*  pilot  from  the  steep, 
To  worlds  unknown,  and  isles  beyond  the  deep  ? 
Or  round  the  cope  *  her  living  chariot  driven, 


188  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

And  wheeled  in  triumph  through  the  signs  of  heaven  ? 
O,  star-eyed  Science,  hast  thou  wandered  there, 
To  waft  us  home  the  message  of  despair  ?  — 
Then  bind  the  palm,  thy  sage's  brow  to  suit, 
Of  blasted  leaf,  and  death-distilling  fruit ! 

4.  Ah  me !  the  laurelled  wreath  that  Murder  rears, 
Blood-nursed,  and  watered  by  the  widow's  tears, 
Seems  not  so  foul,  so  tainted,  and  so  dread, 

As  waves  the  night-shade^  round  the  sceptic  head. 
"What  is  the  bigot's  torch,  the  tyrant's  chain  ? 
I  smile  on  death,  if  heaven-ward  Hope  remain ! 
But,  if  the  warring  w^inds  of  Nature's  strife 
Be  all  the  faithless  charter  of  my  life. 
If  Chance  awaked,  inexorable  power ! 
This  frail  and  feverish  being  of  an  hour. 
Doomed  o'er  the  world's  precarious  scene  to  sweep, 
Swift  as  the  tempest  travels  on  the  deep, 
To  know  Delight  but  by  her  parting  smile, 
And  toil,  and  wish,  and  weep,  a  little  while ; 
Then  melt,  ye  elements,  that  fonned  in  vain 
This  troubled  pulse,  and  visionary'  brain! 
Fade,  ye  wild  flowers,  memorials  of  my  doom ! 
And  sink,  ye  stars,  that  light  me  to  the  tomb  I 

5.  Truth,  ever  lovely,  since  the  world  began. 
The  foe  of  tyrants,  and  the  friend  of  man, — 
How  can  thy  words  from  balmy  slumber  start 
Reposing  Virtue,  pillowed  on  the  heart ! 
Yet,  if  thy  voice  the  note  of  thunder  rolled, 
And  that  were  true  which  Nature  never  told, 
Let  Wisdom  smile  not  on  her  conquered  field  j 
No  rapture  dawns,  no  treasure  is  revealed  ! 

O,  let  her  read,  nor  loudly,  nor  elate. 
The  doom  that  bars  us  from  a  better  fate  I 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  189 

But,  sad  as  angels  for  the  good  man's  sin, 
Weep  to  record,  and  blush  to  give  it  in  I 


1  R£ft     Bereft;  deprived. 

2  Sa'pi-?nt.    Wise. 

8  D£m'1-g6d.    a  deified  hero. 

4  I-be'r|-a'§  Pi'lot.   Columbus.  Ibe- 


6  Cope.    The  concave  of  the  sky;  an 

arch  or  vault  over  head. 
6  NIght'shade.    a  noxious  plant. 
1  VI"§iQN-A-RY.  Prone  to  see  or  capa^ 


ria  is  an  ancient  name  of  Spain.       j         ble  of  seeing  visions  -,  imaginative. 


XLIX.  —  THE  RIVER  SACO. 

J.  G.  Lyons. 

[The  Saco  (si'co)  has  its  springs  in  New  Hampshire,  near  the  Notch  of  the 
"White  Mountains,  and  reaches  the  Atlantic  after  a  winding  course  through  the 
State  of  Maine.  It  receives  the  waters  of  many  lakes  and  streams,  passes  over 
numerous  falls,  and  is  throughout  remarkable  for  its  clearness  and  beauty.] 

1.  Forth  from  New  Hampshire's  granite  steeps 

Fair  Saco  rolls  in  chainless  pride, 
Rejoicing  as  it  laughs  and  leaps 

Down  the  gray  mountain's  rugged  side : 
The  stern,  rent  crags,  and  tall,  dark  pines, 

Watch  that  young  pilgrim  passing  by, 
While  close  above  them  frowns  or  shines, 

The  black,  torn  cloud,  or  deep-blue  sky. 

2.  Soon,  gathering  strength,  it  swiftly  takes 

Through  Bartlett's  vales  its  tuneful  way. 
Or  hides  in  Conway's  fragrant  brakes. 

Retreating  from  the  glare  of  day; 
Kow,  full  of  vigorous  life,  it  springs 

From  the  strong  mountain's  circling  arms. 
And  roams,  in  wide  and  lucid  rings. 

Among  green  Fryeburg's  woods  and  farms, 

3.  Here,  with  low  voice,  it  comes  and  calls 

For  tribute  from  some  hermit  lake ; 
And  here  it  wildly  foams  and  falls, 
Bidding  the  forest  echoes  wake ; 


190  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

Now  sweeping  on,  it  runs  its  race, 
By  mound  and  mill,  in  playful  glee ; 

Now  welcomes  with  its  pure  embrace 
The  vestal'  waves  of  Ossipee. 

4.  At  last,  with  loud  and  solemn  roar, 

Spurning  each  rocky  ledge  and  bar, 
It  sinks  where,  on  the  sounding  shore, 

The  broad  Atlantic  heaves  afar. 
There,  on  old  Ocean's  faithful  breast, 

Its  wealth  of  waves  it  proudly  flings ; 
And  there  its  weary  waters  rest. 

Clear  as  they  left  their  crystal  springs. 

6.    Sweet  stream !  it  were  a  fate  divine. 

Till  this  world's  tasks  and  toils  were  done^ 
To  go,  like  those  bright  floods  of  thine, 

Refreshing  all,  enslaved  by  none ; 
To  pass  through  scenes  of  calm  and  strife, 

Singing  like  thee,  with  holy  mirth. 
And  close  in  peace  a  varied  life. 

Unsullied  by  one  stain  of  earth. 

1  Vfis'T^L.    Pure;  stainless. 


Knowledge  and  Wisdom,  far  from  being  one, 
Have  ofttimes  no  connection.     Knowledge  dwells 
In  heads  replete  with  thoughts  of  other  men ; 
Wisdom,  in  minds  attentive  to  their  own. 
Knowledge  — a  rude,  unprofitable  mass. 
The  mere  materials  with  which  Wisdom  builds. 
Till  smoothed,  and  squared,  and  fitted  to  its  place 
Does  but  encumber  whom  it  seems  to  enrich ! 
Knowledge  is  proud  that  he'has  learned  so  much, 
Wisdom  is  humble  that  he  knows  no  more. 


THK  FIFTH  READER.  191 

L DAVID'S  LAMENT  FOR  ABSALOM. 

N.  Pakker  Willis. 

[Tfathanlel  Parker  Willis  was  born  in  Portland,  Maine,  January  20,  1807. 
He  is  a  writer  in  both  prose  and  verse.  His  style  is  air/  and  graceful,  and  his 
descriptive  powers  are  of  a  high  order.  His  poetry  is  flowing  and  musical, 
and  marked  by  truth  of  sentiment  and  delicacy  of  feeling.] 

1.  Alas,  my  noble  boy !  that  thou  shouldst  die  ! 

Thou,  who  wert  made  so  beautifully  fair ! 
That  death  should  settle  in  thy  glorious  eye, 

And  leave  his  stillness  in  this  clustering  hair  I 
How  could  he  mark  thee  for  the  silent  tomb, 
My  proud  boy  Absalom ! 

2.  Cold  is  thy  brow,  my  son  !  and  I  am  chill. 

As  to  my  bosom  I  have  tried  to  press  thee. 
How  was  I  wont  to  feel  my  pulses  thrill. 

Like  a  rich  harpstring,  yearning  ^  to  caress  thee, 
And  hear  thy  sweet  ^^  My  father  ! ''^  from  these  dumb 
And  cold  lips,  Absalom  I 

3.  But  death  is  on  thee.    I  shall  hear  the  gush 

Of  music,  and  the  voices  of  the  young; 
And  life  will  pass  me  in  the  mantling^  blush, 

And  the  dark  tresses  to  the  soft  winds  flung ;  — 
But  thou  no  more,  with  thy  sw^et  voice,  shalt  come 
To  meet  me,  Absalom  ! 

4.  And,  O,  when  I  am  stricken,  and  my  heart. 

Like  a  bruised  reed,  is  waiting  to  be  broken, 
How  will  its  love  for  thee,  as  I  depart, 

Yearn  for  thine  ear  to  drink  its  last  deep  token  ! 
It  were  so  sweet,  amid  death's  gathering  gloom, 
To  Bee  thee,  Absalom  I 


192  THE  FIFTH  BEADEB. 

5.    And  now,  farewell !    *Tis  hard  to  give  thee  up, 

With  death  so  like  a  gentle  slumber  on  thee :  — 
And  thy  dark  sin !  —  O,  I  could  drink  the  cup, 
If  from  this  woe  its  bitterness  had  won  thee. 
May  God  have  called  thee,  like  a  wanderer,  home, 
My  lost  boy  Absalom ! 

1  TfiARN'iNO.    strongly  desiring.    |  2  MAn'ti.jng.    Suffusing  the  fae«. 


LI.  — A  STOEM  AT  SEA. 

Archbishop  Hughes. 

[John  Hnghet,  D.  D.,  was  bom  in  the  north  of  Ireland  in  1798,  came  to  iM» 
country  in  1817,  with  his  father,  and  died  January  3,  1864.  He  was  educated  at 
the  Catholic  Theological  Seminary  of  Mount  St.  Mary's,  Emmetsburg,  Mary- 
land, ordained  priest  in  1825,  became  bishop  in  1842,  and  archbishop  of  New 
York  in  1850.  He  was  a  man  of  great  energy  of  character  and  intellectual 
activity.  He  published  several  controversial  works,  and  a  number  of  pamphlets 
and  lectures.] 

1.  This  day  I  was  gratified  witji  what  I  bad  often 
desired  to  witness  —  the  condition  of  the  sea  in  a  tem- 
pest. I  had  contemplated  the  ocean  in  all  its  other  phases, 
and  they  are  almost  innumerable.  At  one  time  it  is  seen 
reposing  in  perfect  stillness  under  the  blue  sky  and  bright 
sun.  At  another,  slightly  rufiied,  and  then  its  motion 
causes  his  rays  to  tremble  and  dance  in  broken  fragments 
of  silvery  or  golden  light,  —  and  the  sight  is  dazzled  by 
following  the  track  from  whence  his  beams  are  reflected,  — 
while  all  besides  seems  to  frown  in  the  darkness  of  its 
ripple. 

2.  Again  it  may  be  seen  somewhat  more  agitated  and 
of  a  darker  hue,  under  a  clouded  sky  and  a  stronger  and 
increasing  wind.  Then  you  see  an  occasional  wave,  rising 
a  little  above  the  rest,  and  crowning  its  summit  with  that 
crest  of  white,  breaking  from  its  top  and  tumbling  over 
like  liquid  alabaster  \    I  had  seen  the  ocean,  too,  by  moon- 


THE   FIFTH  READER.  193 

light,  and  as  much  of  it  as  may  be  seen  in  the  darkness, 
when  the  moon  and  stars  are  veiled.  But  until  to-day  I 
had  never  seen  it  in  correspondence  with  the  tempest. 

3.  After  a  breeze  of  some  sixty  hours  from  the  north 
and  north-west,  the  wind  died  away  about  four  o'clock 
yesterday  afternoon.  The  calm  continued  till  about  nine 
in  the  evening.  The  mercury  in  the  barometer''  fell,  in 
the  mean  time,  at  an  extraordinary  rate ;  and  the  captain 
predicted  that  we  should  encounter  a  "gale"  from  the 
south-east.  The  "gale"  came  on,  at  about  eleven  o'clock; 
not  violent  at  first,  but  increasing  every  moment.  I  awoke 
with  a  confused  recollection  of  a  good  deal  of  rolling  and 
thumping  through  the  night,  which  was  occasioned  by  the 
dashing  of  the  waves  against  the  ship. 

4.  Hurrying  on  my  clothes,  I  found  such  of  the  passen- 
gers as  could  stand,  at  the  doors  of  the  hurricane-house  ^, 
"  holding  on,"  and  looking  out  in  the  utmost  consternation. 
It  was  still  quite  dark.  Four  of  the  sails  were  already  in 
ribbons;  the  winds  whistling  through  the  cordage;  the 
rain  dashing  furiously  and  in  torrents ;  the  noise  and  spray 
scarcely  less  than  I  found  them  under  the  great  sheet  at 
Niagara.  And  in  the  midst  of  all  this,  the  captain,  with 
his  speaking  trumpet,  the  oificers,  and  the  sailors,  scream- 
ing to  each  other  in  efforts  to  be  heard,  —  this,  all  this,  in 
the  darkness  which  precedes  the  dawnin^^f  day,  and  with 
the  fury  of  the  hurricane,  combined  to  form  as  much  of  the 
terribly  sublime  as  I  ever  wish  to  witness  concentrated  in 
one  scene. 

5.  The  passengers,  though  silent,  were  filled  with  appre- 
hension. What  the  extent  of  danger,  and  how  all  this 
would  terminate,  were  questions  which  rose  in  my  own  mind, 
although  I  was  unconscious  of  fear  or  trepidation"*.  But 
to  such  questions  there  are  no  answers,  for  this  knowledge 
resides  only  with  Him  who  "  guides  the  storm  and  directs 
the  whirlwind."     We  had  encountered,  however,  as  yet, 

17 


194  THE   FIFTH   EEADER. 

only  the  commencement  of  a  gale,  whose  terrors  had  been 
heightened  by  its  suddenness,  by  the  darkness,  and  by  the 
confusion.  It  continued  to  blow  furiously  for  twenty-four 
hours;  so  that  during  the  whole  day  I  enjoyed  a  view, 
which,  apart  from  its  dangers,  would  be  worth  a  voyage 
across  the  Atlantic. 

6.  The  ship  w^as  driven  madly  through  the  raging 
waters,  and  when  it  was  impossible  to  walk  the  decks 
without  imminent  risk  of  being  lifted  up  and  carried  away 
by  the  winds,  the  poor  sailors  were  kept  aloft,  tossing  and 
swinging  about  the  yards  and  in  the  tops,  clinging  by  their 
bodies,  feet,  and  arms,  with  mysterious  tenacity,  to  the 
spars,  while  their  hands  were  employed  in  taking  in  and 
securing  sail. 

7.  On  deck  the  officers  and  men  made  themselves  safe  by 
ropes ;  but  how  the  gallant  fellows  aloft  kept  from  being 
blown  out  of  the  rigging,  was  equally  a  matter  of  wonder 
and  admiration.  However,  about  seven  o'clock  they  had 
taken  in  what  canvas  had  not  blown  away,  except  the  sail? 
by  means  of  which  the  vessel  is  kept  steady.  At  nine 
o'clock  the  hurricane  had  acquired  its  full  force.  There 
was  no  more  work  to  be  done.  The  ship  lay  to*,  and  those 
who  had  her  in  charge  only  remained  on  deck  to  be  pre- 
pared for  whatever  of  disaster  might  occur.  The  break- 
fast hour  came,  and  passed,  unheeded  by  most  of  the 
passengers. 

8.  By  this  time  the  sea  was  rolling  up  its  hurricane 
■^aves ;  and  that  I  might  not  lose  the  grandeur  of  such  a 
view,  I  fortified  myself  against  the  rain  and  spray,  and,  in 
spite  of  the  fierceness  of  the  gale,  planted  myself  in  a 
position  favorable  for  a  survey  of  all  round  me,  and  in 
safety,  so  long  as  the  ship's  strong  works  might  hold 
together.  I  had  often  seen  paintings  of  a  storm  at  sea, 
but  here  was  the  original.  These  imitations  are  oftentimes 
graphic  *  and  faithful,  as  far  as  they  go,  but  they  are  neces- 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  195 

Barily  deficient  in  accompaniments  which  paintings  cannot 
supply,  and  are  therefore  feeble  and  ineffective. 

9.  You  have,  upon  canvas,  the  ship  and  the  sea,  but,  as 
they  come  from  the  hands  of  the  artist,  so  they  remain. 
The  universal  motion  of  both  is  thus  arrested  and  made 
stationary.  There  is  no  subject  in  which  the  pencil  of  the 
painter  acknowledges  more  its  indebtedness  to  the  imagi- 
nation than  in  its  attempts  to  delineate^  the  sea  storm. 

10.  It  was  not  the  least  remarkable,  and  by  far  the  most 
comfortable  circumstance  in  this  combination  of  all  that  is 
grand  and  terrible,  that,  furious  as  were  the  winds,  tower- 
ing and  threatening  as  were  the  billows,  our  glorious  bark 
preserved  her  equilibrium  ^  against  the  fury  of  the  one, 
and  her  buoyancy  in  despite  of  the  alternate  precipice  and 
avalanche  of  the  other.  True  it  is,  she  was  made  to 
whistle  through  her  cordage,  to  creak  and  moan  through 
all  her  timbers,  even  to  her  masts.  True  it  is,  she  was 
made  to  plunge  and  rear,  to  tremble  and  reel  and  stagger. 
Still,  she  continued  to  scale  the  watery  mountain,  and  ride 
on  its  very  summit,  until,  as  it  rolled  onward  from  beneath 
her,  she  descended  gently  on  her  pathway,  ready  to 
triumph  again  and  again  over  each  succeeding  wave. 

11.  At  such  a  moment  it  was  a  matter  of  profound 
deliberation  which  most  to  admire,  the  majesty  of  God  in 
the  winds  and  waves,  or  his  goodness^nd  wisdom  in 
enabling  his  creatures  to  contend  with  and  overcome  the 
elements  even  in  the  fierceness  of  their  anger !  To  cast 
one's  eye  abroad  on  the  scene  that  surrounded  me  at  this 
moment,  and  to  think  man  should  have  said  to  himself,  "  I 
will  build  myself  an  ark  in  the  midst  of  you,  and  ye  shall 
not  prevent  my  passage ;  nay,  ye  indomitable  waves  shall 
bear  me  up,  and  ye  winds  shall  waft  me  onward  !"  And 
yet  there  we  were  in  the  fulness  of  this  fearful  experi- 
ment! 

12.  I  had   never  believed  it  possible  for  a  vessel  to 


196 


THE   FIFIH   READER. 


encounter  sncli  a  hurricane  without  being  dashed  or  torn 
to  pieces,  at  least  in  all  her  masts  and  rigging ;  for  I  am 
persuaded  that  had  the  same  tempest  passed  as  furiously- 
over  your  town,  during  the  same  length  of  time,  it  would 
have  left  scarcely  a  house  standing.  The  yielding  char- 
acter of  the  element  in  which  the  vessel  is  launched  is  the 
great  secret  of  safety  on  such  occasions.  Hence,  when 
gales  occur  upon  the  wide  ocean,  there  is  little  danger; 
but  when  they  drive  you  upon  breakers  on  a  lee  shore  \ 
where  the  keel'"  comes  in  contact  with  "the  too  solid 
earth,"  then  it  is  impossible  to  escape  shipwreck. 

13.  I  never  experienced  a  sensation  of  fear  on  the 
ocean ;  but  this  tempest  has  increased  my  confidence 
tenfold,  not  only  in  the  sea  but  in  the  ship.  It  no  longer 
sui-prises  me  that  few  vessels  are  lost  at  sea,  for  they  and 
their  element  are  made  for  each  other.  And  the  practical 
conclusion  from  this  experience  of  a  gale  is  encouraging 
for  all  my  future  navigation.  I  shall  have  confidence  in 
my  ship  now,  as  I  have  ever  had  in  the  sea.  Ever  since 
my  eyes  first  rested  on  the  ocean,  I  have  cherished  an 
instinctive  aflTection  for  it,  as  if  it  were  something  capable 
of  sympathy  and  benevolence.  When  calm,  it  is  to  me  a 
slumbering  infant.     How  tranquilly  it  sleeps ! 


1  Al'a-bXs-t^r.  a  white  stone  used 
for  ornamental  purposes. 

»  Ba-r6m'e-ter.  An  instrument  used 
for  measuring  the  weight  or  pres- 
sure of  the  atmosphere,  and  wliich 
gives  warning  of  tlie  approach  of  a 
Btorm  by  the  falling  of  the  mer- 
cury ;  a  weather-glass. 

•  HOr'ri-cane  hoOse.    A  house  on 

the  upper  deck. 

♦  TRfiP-i  DA'TiQN.    Involuntary  trem- 

bling ;  agitation  of  mind  ;  alarm. 
6  Lay  t6.   Had  the  progress  stopped, 


as  a  vessel,  by  bringing  her  head 
to  the  wind. 

8  GrXph'ic.    Well  described  ;  vivid. 

1  De-lIn'e-Xte.  Represent  by  draw- 
ing or  by  describing,  so  as  to  pre- 
sent a  picture  to  the  mind. 

8  e-qu}-l1b'ri-0m.    Balance  of  power 

or  weight ;  just  poise  or  balance. 

9  Lee  sh5re.  A  shore  against  which 

the  wind  blows. 
10  Keel,    The   principal  timber  In  a 
vessel,  extending   from    stem    to 
stern,  at  the  bottom. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  197 


LIL  — SPEECH   ON  THE   RECEPTION   OF  THE 
SAUKS  AND   FOXES. 

Everett. 

[Edward  Everett,  a  highly  disting-nished  statesman,  orator,  and  scholar,  was 
born  in  Dorchester,  Massachusetts,  April  11,  1704,  and  died  in  Boston,  univer- 
sally honored  and  lamented,  January  15,  186"^. 

In  the  autumn  of  1837,  a  delegation  of  the  Sauk  and  Fox  tribes  of  Indiana 
•went  to  Washington  on  business  connected  with  their  boundary.  It  was  deemed 
expedient  by  the  United  States  government  that  they  should  visit  the  cities  of 
the  Eastern  and  Middle  States,  and  Boston  was  included  in  their  tour.  They 
were  received  in  Boston  on  the  morning  of  October  30.  Mr.  Everett  was  at 
that  time  governor  of  Massachusetts,  and  in  that  capacity  made  them  the  fol- 
lowing speech  of  welcome,  which  is  a  happy  imitation  of  the  peculiar  style  of 
oratory  common  to  our  North  American  Indians.] 

1.  Chiefs  and  warriors  of  the  united  Sauks  and  Foxes, 
you  are  welcome  to  our  hall  of  council. 

2.  Brothers,  you  have  come  a  long  way  from  your  home 
to  visit  your  white  brethren ;  we  rejoice  to  take  you  by 
the  hand.  Brothers,  we  have  heard  the  names  of  your 
chiefs  and  warriors.  Our  brethren  who  have  travelled 
into  the  West  have  told  us  a  great  deal  about  the  Sauks 
and  Foxes;  we  rejoice  to  see  you  with  our  own  eyes. 
Brothers,  we  are  called  the  Massachusetts.  This  is  the 
name  of  the  red  men  who  once  lived  here.  Their  wig- 
wams were  scattered  on  yonder  fields,  fxif^  their  council 
fire  was  kindled  on  this  spot.  They  were  of  the  same 
great  race  as  the  Sauks  and  Foxes. 

3.  Brothers,  when  our  fathers  came  over  the  great  water, 
they  were  a  small  band.  The  red  man  stood  upon  the 
rock  by  the  sea-side,  and  saw  our  fathers.  He  might  have 
pushed  them  into  the  water  and  drowned  them.  But  lie 
stretched  out  his  hand  to  them,  and  said,  "  Welcome,  white 
men."  Our  fathers  were  hungry,  and  the  red  man  gave 
them  corn  and  venison '.  They  were  cold,  and  the  red 
man  wrapped  them  in  his  blanket.  We  are  now  numerous 
and  powerful,  but  we  remember  the  kindness  of  the  red 

17  * 


198  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

men  to  our  fathers.    Brothers,  you  are  welcome ;  we  are 
glad  to  see  you  ! 

4.  Brothers,  our  faces  are  pale,  and  your  faces  are  dark  •, 
but  our  hearts  are  alike.  The  Great  Spirit  has  made  his 
children  of  different  colors,  but  he  loves  them  all. 

5.  Brothers,  you  dwell  between  the  Mississippi  and  the 
Missouri.  They  are  mighty  rivers.  They  have  one  branch 
far  east  in  the  Alleghanies,  and  another  far  west  in  the 
Rocky. Mountains;  but  they  flow  together  at  last  into  one 
great  stream,  and  run  down  into  the  sea.  In  like  manner, 
the  red  man  dwells  in  the  west,  and  the  white  man  in  the 
east,  by  the  great  water.  But  they  are  all  one  band,  one 
family.     It  has  many  branches,  and  one  Head. 

6.  Brothers,  as  you  entered  our  council  house,  you  be- 
held the  image  of  our  great  father,  Washington.*  It  is  a 
cold  stone ;  it  cannot  speak.  But  he  was  the  friend  of  the 
red  man,  and  bade  his  children  live  in  friendship  with  their 
red  brethren.  He  is  gone  to  the  world  of  spirits,  but  his 
words  have  made  a  very  deep  print  in  our  hearts,  like  the 
step  of  a  strong  buffalo  on  the  soft  clay  of  the  prairie  ^ 

7.  Brother,  I  perceive  your  little  son  between  your 
knees.  May  the  Great  Spirit  preserve  his  life,  my  brother. 
He  grows  up  before  you,  like  the  tender  sapling  by  the 
side  of  the  mighty  oak.  May  they  flourish  for  a  long 
time  together ;  and  when  the  mighty  oak  is  fallen  on  the 
ground,  may  the  young  tree  fill  its  place  in  the  forest,  and 
spread  out  its  branches  over  the  tribe. 

8.  Brothers,  I  make  you  a  short  talk,  and  again  bid  you 
welcome  to  our  council  hall. 

1  V£n'i§on  (ven'zn).  The  flesh  of  edi- I  2  Prai'rie    (pra're).       An   extensive 
ble  beasts  of  the  chase,  but  usually  tract  of  land,  mostly  level,  bare  of 

restricted  to  the  flesh  of  deer.  I         trees,  and  covered  with  grass. 

*  There  is  a  statue  of  Washington,  by  Chantrey,  in  the  State  House,  in 
Boston. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  199 

LIII.— THE  IRREPARABLE  PAST. 

Robertson. 

[Rev.  Frederick  W.  Robertson,  pastor  of  Trinity  Chapel,  Brigliton,  Eng- 
land, was  born  in  London,  February  3,  181G,  and  died  August  15,  1853.  He 
was  a  clerg-yman  of  the  Church  of  Eng-land.  His  writing's  are  distinguished 
for  their  poetical  beauty  of  expression,  their  vividness,  and  their  stirring  ap- 
peals to  the  religious  element  in  man.] 

1.  Time  is  the  solemn  inheritance  to  which  every  man 
is  born  heir,  who  has  a  life-rent  of  this  world,  —  a  little 
section  cut  out  of  eternity,  and  given  us  to  do  our  work 
in ;  an  eternity  before,  an  eternity  behind :  and  the  small 
stream  between,  floating  swiftly  from  the  one  into  the  vast 
bosom  of  the  other.  The  man  who  has  felt,  with  all  his 
soul,  the  significance  of  time,  will  not  be  long  in  learning 
any  lesson  that  this  world  has  to  teach  him.  Have  you 
ever  felt  it?  Have  you  ever  realized  how  your  own  little 
streamlet  is  gliding  away  and  bearing  you  along  with  it 
towards  that  awful  other  world  of  which  all  things  here 
are  but  thin  shadows,  down  into  that  eternity  towards 
which  the  confused  wreck  of  all  earthly  things  is  bound  T 

2.  Let  us  realize,  that,  until  that  sensation  of  time,  and 
the  infinite  meaning  which  is  wrapped  up  in  it,  has  taken 
possession  of  our  souls,  there  is  no  chance  of  our  ever  feel- 
ing strongly  that  it  is  worse  than  madness  to  sleep  that 
time  away.  Every  day  in  this  world  has  its  work ;  and 
every  day,  as  it  rises  out  of  eternity,  keeps  putting  to  each 
of  us  the  question  afresh.  What  will  you  do  before  to  day 
has  sunk  into  eternity  and  nothingness  again  ? 

3.  And  now  what  have  we  to .  say  with  respect  to  this 
strange,  solemn  thing — time?  That  men  do  with  it 
through  life  just  what  the  apostles  did  for  one  precious 
and  irreparable  ^  hour  of  it  in  the  garden  of  Gethsemane  — 
they  go  to  sleep  !  Have  you  ever  seen  those  marble  stat- 
ues, in  some  public  square  or  garden,  which  art  has  so 


200  THE   FIFTH  READER. 

finished  into  a  perennial  fountain  that  through  the  lips  or 
through  the  hands  the  clear  water  flows  in  a  perpetual 
stream  on  and  on  forever,  and  the  marble  stands  there, — 
passive,  cold,  —  making  no  effort  to  arrest  the  gliding  water? 

4.  It  is  so  that  time  flows  through  the  hands  of  men  — > 
swift,  never  pausing  till  it  has  run  itself  out ;  and  there  is 
the  man  petrified^  into  a  marble  sleep,  not  feeling  what  it 
is  which  is  passing  away  forever !  It  is  so,  just  so,  that  tlie 
destiny  of  nine  men  out  of  ten  accomplishes  itself,  slip- 
ping away  from  them  aimless,  useless,  till  it  is  too  late.  And 
we  are  asked,  with  all  the  solemn  thoughts  which  crowd 
around  our  approaching  eternity,  What  has  been  our 
life,  and  what  do  we  intend  it  shall  be? 

5.  Yesterday,  last  week,  last  year,  they  are  gone !  Yes- 
terday was  such  a  day  as  never  was  before,  and  never  can 
be  again.  Out  of  darkness  and  eternity  it  was  born,  a  new, 
fresh  day ;  into  darkness  and  eternity  it  sank  again  forever. 
It  had  a  voice,  calHng  to  us  of  its  own,  —  its  own  work, 
its  own  duties.  What  were  we  doing  yesterday  ?  Idling, 
whiling  away  the  time,  in  light  and  luxurious  literature ; 
not  as  life's  relaxation,  but  as  life's  business  ?  Thrilling 
our  hearts  with  the  excitement  of  hfe,  contriving  how  to 
spend  the  day  most  pleasantly?    Was  that  our  day? 

6.  All  this  is  but  the  sleep  of  the  three  apostles.  And 
new  let  us  remember  this :  There  is  a  day  coming  when 
the  sleep  will  be  broken  rudely,  —  with  a  shock;  there  is  a 
day  in  our  future  lives  when  our  time  will  be  counted,  not 
by  years,  nor  by  months,  nor  yet  by  hours,  but  by  min- 
utes,  —  the  day  when  unmistakable  symptoms*  shall  an- 
nounce that  the  messenger  of  death  has  come  to  take  us. 

7.  That  startling  moment  will  come,  which  it  is  vain  to 
attempt  to  realize  now,  when  it  will  be  felt  that  it  is  all 
over  at  last  —  that  our  chance  and  our  trial  are  past.  The 
moment  that  we  have  tried  to  think  of,  shrunk  from,  put 
away  from  us,  here  it  is  —  going  too,  like  all  other  mo- 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


201 


ments  that  have  gone  before  it ;  and  then  with  eyes 
unsealed*  at  last,  we  shall  look  back  on  the  life  which  is 
gone  by. 


1  SftN-SA'TipN.    Impression  made  up- 

on the  mind  by  something-  acting 
on  the  bodily  organs  ;  feeling-. 

2  iR-Rfip'A-RA-BLE.     That  Cannot  be 

repaired  of  recovered. 


3  PfiT'Ri-FiED,  Changed  to  a  stone  or 
a  stony  substance, 

*  SifMP'TQM.    Sign  ;  token. 

5  tJN-SEALED'.  Without  a  Seal,  Or  hav- 
ing the  seal  broken ;  open. 


LIV.  — THE   COMBAT. 

Sir  Walter  Scott. 

[This  piece  is  taken  from  the  Lady  of  the  Lake.  King  James  V.,  of  Scot- 
land, under  the  assumed  name  of  Fitz  James,  while  alone  in  tlie  wilds  of  the 
Highlands  had  come  into  the  presence  of  Roderick  Dhu,  the  chief  of  a  rebel- 
lious clan,  and  had  been  hospitably  entertained  by  him  over  night-  In  tho 
morning,  after  Fitz  James  had  been  guided  by  Roderick  Dhu  beyond  the  hos- 
tile district,  the  following  scene  occurs.] 

1.   The  Chief  in  silence  strode  before, 

And  reached  that  torrent's  sounding  shore, 
Which,  daughter  of  three  mighty  lakes, 
From  Yennachar  in  silver  breaks. 
And  here  his  course  the  chieftain  stayed, 
Threw  down  his  target  and  his  plaid ', 
And  to  the  Lowland  warrior  said,  — 

2. .  «  Bold  Saxon  M  to  his  promise  just, 
Vich-Alpine^  has  discharged  his  trust. 
This  murderous  chief,  this  ruthless 4  man. 
This  head  of  a  rebellious  clan, 
Hath  led  thee  safe,  through  watch  and  ward, 
Far  past  Clan-Alpine's  outmost  guard : 
Now,  man  to  man,  and  steel  to  steel, 
A  chieftain's  vengeance  thou  shalt  feel. 
See  here,  all  vantageless^  I  stand, 


202  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

Armed,  like  thyself,  with  single  brand : 

For  this  is  Coilantogle  ford. 

And  thou  must  keep  thee  with  thy  sword."-* 

d.   The  Saxon  paused :  —  "I  ne'er  delayed 
When  foeman  bade  me  draw  my  blade ; 
Nay,  more,  brave  Chief,  I  vowed  thy  death : 
Yet  sure  thy  fair  and  generous  faith, 
And  my  deep  debt  for  life  preserved, 
A  better  meed^  have  well -deserved  ; 
Can  nought  but  blood  our  feud  atone  ? 
Are  there  no  means  ?  "  —  "  No,  stranger,  none  I 
And  hear,  —  to  fire  thy  flagging  zeal,  — 
The  Saxon  cause  rests  on  thy  steel ; 
For  thus  spoke  Fate,  by  prophet  bred 
Between  the  living  and  the  dead : 
'  Who  spills  the  foremost  foeman's  life, 
His  party  conquers  in  the  strife.'  "  — 

4    "  Then,  by  my  word,"  the  Saxon  said, 
"  The  riddle  is  already  read. 
Seek  yonder  brake  beneath  the  cliiF,  — 
There  lies  Red  Murdock,*  stark  and  stiffi 
Tlius  Fate  has  solved  her  prophecy, 
Then  yield  to  Fate,  and  not  to  me. 
To  James,  at  Stirling,  let  us  go. 
When,  if  thou  wilt  be  still  his  foe. 
Or  if  the  King  shall  not  agree 
;  To  grant  thee  grace  and  favor  free, 

I  plight  mine  honor,  oath,  and  word. 
That,  to  thy  native  strengths  restored, 
With  each  advantage  shalt  thou  stand, 
That  aids  thee  now  to  guard  thy  land." 

*  Red  Murdock,  a  treacherous  guide,  had  been  killed  by  Fitz  James,  the  pre- 
ceding day. 


THE    FIFTH    EEADER.  203 

Dark  lightning  flash'd  from  Roderick's  eye  — 
"  Soars  thy  presumption,  then,  so  high, 
Because  a  wretched  kern^  ye  slew, 
Homage  to  name  to  Roderick  Dhu**  ? 
He  yields  not,  he,  to  man  nor  Fate  I 
Thou  add'st  but  fuel  to  my  hate  : 
M}r  clansman's  blood  demands  revenge. 
Not  yet  prepared !     By  Heaven,  I  change    ' 
My  thought,  and  hold  thy  valor  light 
As  that  of  some  vain  carpet-knight', 
Who  ill  deserved  my  courteous  care, 
And  whose  best  boast  is  but  to  wear 
A  braid  of  his  fau-  lady's  hah-." 

"  I  thank  thee,  Roderick,  for  the  word  I 

It  nerves  my  heart,  it  steels  my  sword ; 

For  I  have  sworn  this  braid  to  stain 

In  the  best  blood  that  warms  thy  vein. 

Now,  truce,  farewell !  and,  ruth  *",  begone  I 

Yet  think  not  that  by  thee  alone. 

Proud  Chief!  can  courtesy  be  shown ; 

Though  not  from  copse,  or  heath,  or  cairn", 

Start  at  my  whistle  clansmen  stern, 

Of  this  small  horn  one  feeble  blast 

Would  fearful  odds  against  thee  cast. 

But  fear  not  —  doubt  not  —  which  thou  wilt^ 

We  try  this  quarrel  hilt  to  hilt." 

Then  each  at  once  his  falchion  ^^  drew, 
Each  on  the  ground  his  scabbard  threw, 
Each  looked  to  sun,  and  stream,  and  plain, 
As  what  they  ne'er  might  see  again ; 
Then  foot,  and  point,  and  eye  opposed. 
In  dubious  strife  they  darkly  closed. 


204  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

8.  Ill  fared  it  then  with  Roderick  Dhu, 
That  on  the  field  his  targe  he  threw, 
Whose  brazen  studs  and  tough  bull-hide 
Had  death  so  often  dashed  aside ; 

For,  trained  abroad  his  arras  to  wield, 
Fitz-James's  blade  was  sword  and  shield. 
He  practised  every  pass  and  Avard, 
To  thrust,  to  strike,  to  feint,  to  guard ; 
While  less  expert,  though  stronger  far, 
The  GaeP'  maintained  unequal  war. 

9.  Three  times  in  closing  strife  they  stood, 
And  thrice  the  Saxon  blade  drank  blood ; 
No  stinted  draught,  no  scanty  tide. 

The  gushing  flood  the  tartans^*  dyed. 
Fierce  Roderick  felt  the  fatal  drain. 
And  shower'd  his  blows  like  wintry  rain; 
And,  as  firm  rock,  or  castle  roof. 
Against  the  winter-shower  is  proof, 
The  foe,  invulnerable  still, 
Foiled  his  wild  rage  by  steady  skill ; 
Till,  at  advantage  ta'en,  his  brand 
Forced  Roderick's  weapon  from  his  hand, 
And,  backward  borne  upon  the  lea. 
Brought  the  proud  Chieftain  to  his  knee. 

10,    "Now,  yield  ye,  or,  by  Him  who  made 

The  world,  thy  heart's  blood  dyes  my  blade  I ' 
"  Thy  threats,  thy  mercy,  I  defy ! 
Let  recreant  yield,  who  fears  to  die." 
—  Like  adder  darting  from  his  coil. 
Like  wolf  that  dashes  through  the  toil'*, 
Like  mountain-cat  who  guards  her  young, 
Full  at  Fitz-James's  throat  he  sprung ; 


THE   FIFTH  READER. 


205 


Received,  but  recked  not  of  a  wound, 
And  locked  his  arms  his  foeman  round.  — 


11.  Now,  gallant  Saxon,  hold  thine  own  ! 
No  maiden's  hand  is  round  thee  thrown  ! 
That  desperate  grasp  thy  frame  might  feel 
Through  bars  of  brass  and  triple  steel!  — 
They  tug,  they  strain  !  down,  down  they  go, 
The  Gael  above,  Fitz-James  below. 

The  Chieftain's  gripe  his  throat  compressed ; 
His  knee  was  planted  in  his  breast ; 
His  clotted  locks  he  backward  threw, 
Across  his  brow  his  hand  he  drew. 
From  blood  and  mist  to  clear  his  sight, 
Then  gleamed  aloft  his  dagger  bright ! 

12.  But  hate  and  fury  ill  supplied 

The  stream  of  life's  exhausted  tide ! 
And  all  too  late  the  advantage  came, 
To  turn  the  odds  of  deadly  game  ; 
For,  while  the  dagger  gleamed  on  high. 
Reeled  soul  and  sense,  reeled  brain  and  eye 
Down  came  the  blow  !  but  in  the  heath 
The  erring  blade  found  bloodless  sheath. 
The  struggling  foe  may  now  unclasp 
The  fainting  Chief's  relaxing  grasp  ; 
Unwounded  from  the  dreadful  close, 
But  breathless  all,  Fitz-James  arose. 


1  PlXid  (Scottish  pronunciation  plad). 
A  striped  or  checkered  cloth  worn 
by  the  Highlanders  of  Scotland, 
and  indicating  by  the  variety  of 
its  patterns  the  different  Scottish 
clans. 

«  SXx'QN.  The  Scottish  Highlander 
calls  himself  Gael,  and  the  Low- 
landers  Saxons. 

»  Vijeu-AL'PlNE  (vek-ai'pSn).  A  name 
18 


given  to  Roderick  Dhu  as  head  of 
the  clan,  and  meaning  descendant 
of  Alpine. 

ROth'less.    Cruel ;  pitiless. 

VXn'ta(?e-less.  Without  any  ad- 
vantage. 

Meed.    Reward ;  recompense. 

Kern.  A  vagrant ;  a  boor ;  a  per. 
son  of  no  consequence. 

Dhu.    An  epithet  meaning  Itlach. 


206 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


»  CXr  PET  knIght.  a  knight  made 
at  court  for  other  than  military 
services,  —  used  as  a  term  of  re- 
proach. 

w  ROth.    Mercy;  pity. 

11  CAiRN  (kirn).    A  heap  of  stones. 


12  FAl'chiON  (ai'shyn).    Sword. 
18  Gael  (gal).    A  Highlander. 
1*  TAR'TAN.    A  kind  of  cloth  check 
eredwith  threads  of  various  colors. 
15  TbiL.    A  net  or  snare  to  catch  wild 


LV.  — LESSONS   OF  SPRING. 

Greenwood. 

[Francis  WilUam  Pitt  Greenwood  was  born  in  Boston,  February  5, 1797,  and 
dAed  August  2,  1843.  He  was  the  pastor  of  a  church  in  Boston.  His  writings 
are  marked  by  a  beautiful  clearness  and  simplicity  of  style,  and  a  fervent,  de- 
\rotional  spirit.] 

1.  Let  us  contemplate,  for  a  few  moments,  the  animated 
scene  which  is  presented  by  our  Spring.  The  earth,  loos- 
ened  by  the  victorious  sun,  springs  from  the  hard  dominion 
of  winter's  frost,  and,  no  longer  offering  a  bound-up, 
repulsive  surface  to  the  husbandman,  invites  his  cultiva- 
ting labors.  The  streams  are  released  from  their  icy 
fetters,  and  spring  forward  on  their  unobstructed  way, 
full  of  sparkling  waters,  which  sing  and  rejoice  as  they 
run  on. 

2.  "  The  trees  of  the  Lord  are  full  of  sap,"  which  now 
springs  up  into  their  before  shrunken  and  empty  vessels, 
causing  the  buds  to  swell,  and  the  yet  unclothed  branches 
and  twigs  to  lose  their  rigid  appearance,  and  assume  a 
fresher  hue  and  a  more  rounded  form.  Beneath  them, 
and  in  every  warm  and  sheltered  spot,  the  wild  plants  are 
springing. 

3.  Some  of  these  are  just  pushing  up  their  tender,  crisp, 
and  yet  vigorous  sprouts,  thrusting  aside  the  dead  leaves 
with  their  folded  heads,  and  finding  their  sure  way  out 
mto  the  light ;  while  others  have  sent  forth  their  delicate 
xbliage,  and  hung  out  their  buds  on  slender  stems;  and 


THE   FIFTH   EEADER.  207 

others  still  have  unfolded  their  flowers,  which  look  up  into 
the  air  unsuspectingly  and  gayly,  like  innocence  upon  an 
untried  world.  The  grass  is  springing  for  the  scythe,  and 
the  gi'ain  for  the  sickle ;  for  they  grow  by  commandment, 
for  the  service  of  man,  and  death  is  every  where  the  fate 
and  issue  of  life. 

4.  But  it  is  not  only  senseless  things  which  are  thus 
visibly  springing  at  this  their  appointed  season.  The 
various  tribes  of  animated  nature  show  that  it  is  spring 
also  with  them.  The  birds  rise  up  on  elastic  wing,  and 
make  a  joyous  music  for  the  growing  plants  to  spring  to. 
Animals,  that  have  lain  torpid  through  the  benumbing 
winter,  spring  up  from  their  secret  beds  and  dormitories ', 
and  resume  their  habits  of  activity  once  more. 

5.  Innumerable  insects  spring  up  from  the  cells  which 
they  had  formed  beyond  the  reach  of  frost,  and  in  new 
attire  commence  their  winged  existence.  The  hum  of 
happy  life  is  heard  from  myriads'^  of  little  creatures,  who, 
born  in  the  morning,  will  die  ere  night.  In  that  short 
term,  however,  they  will  have  accomplished  the  purposes 
of  their  living ;  and,  if  brought  to  this  test,  there  are 
many  human  lives  which  are  shorter  and  vainer  than 
theirs  ;  and  what  is  any  life,  when  past,  but  a  day ! 

6.  Let  us  go  abroad  amidst  this  general  springing  of  the 
earth  and  nature,  and  we  shall  see  and  feel  that  God's 
blessing  is  there.  The  joy  of  recovery,  the  gladness  of 
escape,  the  buoyancy  of  youth,  the  exultation  of  com- 
mencing or  renewed  existence,  —  these  are  the  happiness 
and  blessing  which  are  given  from  above,  and  the  praise 
and  the  hymn  which  ascend  from  beneath. 

7.  Another  and  a  milder  order  of  things  seems  to  be 
beginning.  The  gales,  though  not  the  warm  breathings 
of  summer,  flow  to  us  as  if  they  came  from  some  distant 
summer  clime,  and  were  cooled  and  moderated  on  their 
way;   while,  at  no   distant  intervals,  the  skies,  in  their 


208 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


genial  ministry,  baptize  the  oifspring  of  earth  with  their 
softest  and  holiest  showers.  "  Thou  visitest  the  earth  and 
waterest  it;  thou  makest  it  soft  with  showers;  thou 
blessest  the  springing  thereof." 

8.  Surely  we  cannot  stand  still  in  such  a  scene,  and, 
when  every  thing  else  is  springing,  let  it  be  winter  in  our 
souls.  Let  us  rather  open  our  hearts  to  the  renovating 
influences  of  heaven,  and  sympathize "  with  universal  nature. 
If  our  love  to  God  has  been  chilled  by  any  of  the  wintry 
aspects  of  the  world,  it  is  time  that  it  should  be  resusci- 
tated ^  and  that  it  should  spring  up  in  ardent  adoration 
to  the  Source  of  light  and  life. 

9.  It  is  time  that  our  gratitude  should  be  waked  from 
its  sleep,  and  our  devotion  aroused,  and  that  all  our  pious 
aflections,  shaking  off  their  toi-por,  should  come  out  into 
the  beams  of  God's  presence,  and  receive  new  powers  from 
their  invigorating  warmth.  It  is  time,  too,  that  our  social 
charities,  if  any  "  killing  frost "  has  visited  them,  should 
be  cured  of  their  numbness  and  apathy  *,  and  go  forth 
among  the  children  and  brethren  of  the  great  family,  and 
feel,  as  they  rise  and  move,  that  the  blessing  of  the 
Almighty  Father  is  upon  their  springing. 


1  Dor'mI-T9-rie§.    Sleeping  places. 

2  M5r'j-ad.    An  immense  number. 

8  R]?  sOs'ci-TAT-ED.    Restored  to  life 
fh)m  Beeming  death  j  revived. 


4  S^m'pa-thIze.  Feel  as  another Ifeels 5 

have  a  common  feeling'. 
6  Ap'a-thv.    Want  of  feeling  ;  insen- 

sibility }  indifference. 


LVL  — BIRDS. 

Knickerbocker  Magazine. 

1.  We  love  birds.  When  the  first  soft  days  of  spring 
come  in  all  their  gentle  sweetness,  and  woo  us  with 
their  warmth,  and  soothe  us  with  their  smile,  then  come 
the  birds.    With  us  they,  too,  rejoice  that  winter's  reign 


THE   FIFTH  READER.  209 

(and  snow)  is  ended.  No  one  of  the  seasons  that  come 
to  "  rule  the  varied  year,"  abdicates '  his  throne  more  to 
his  subjects'  joy  than  Winter.  While  he  rules,  we  lose 
all  respect  for  the  mercury''  in  our  thermometer'.  When 
we  remember  how  high  it  stood  in  our  estimation  only  a 
few  short  months  ago,  we  did  not  think  that  it  could  get 
BO  low.  We  resolve  to  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  it ; 
for  "  there  is  a  point  beyond  which  forbearance  ceases  to 
be  a  virtue,"  and  we  conceive  that  point  to  be  thirty-two 
degrees  above  zero*  at  the  very  least. 

2.  How  pleasant  are  the  early  hours  of  a  day  in  spring ! 
The  air  is  laden  with  the  perfect  perfume  of  a  thousand 
flowers,  and  leaves,  and  buds.  And  then,  besides  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  jocund*  day  go  through  that  difficult 
gymnastic  feat,  described  by  Shakspeare,  of  standing  "  tip- 
toe on  the  misty  mountain  tops,"  we  have  a  glorious  morn- 
ing concert,  to  which  we  have  a  season  ticket ;  for 

•*  Innumerous  songsters  in  the  freshening  shade 
Of  new-sprung  leaves  their  modulations  Hiix 
Mellifluous." 

3.  Such  music!  It  seems  the  pure  outpouring  of  the 
greatest  gratitude  to  Him  who  made  the  morn  so  beautiful, 
so  full  of  joy  and  light.  It  is  the  expression  of  most  per- 
fect praise,  in  ecstasy  of  song.     Yes,  indeed,  we  love  birds ! 

4.  There  is  a  deal  of  pleasure  as  well  as  profit  to 
be  derived  from  studying  the  habits  and  the  character 
of  birds.  Nor  is  the  study  burdensome.  Of  all  the 
lower  orders  of  creation,  as  they  frequent  most  freely 
the  haunts  and  homes  of  men,  so  they  approach  us 
nearest  in  intelligence.  They  have  their  labors  and 
amusements,  their  conjugal  relations,  and,  like  us,  they 
build  with  taste  and  skill  their  houses ;  they  have  society, 
moreover,  and  the  opera ^.  In  very  many  things  they 
are  our  equals,  in  some,  our  superiors  j  and  what  in  other 

18* 


210  THE   FIFTH  READER. 

ftnimals    at  best    is    only    instinct,  in    birds    is    almost 
reason. 

5.  Among  the  iBrst  returning  tourists'  from  the  south, 
In  spring,  are  these  pleasant  little  people,  the  bluebird, 
martin,  and  wren.  They  have  particular  confidence  in 
man.  Nor  is  their  confidence  misplaced ;  for  every  body 
hails  with  joy  these  harbingers  ^  of  spring.  Their  com- 
pany is  peculiarly  agi*eeable,  and  they  seem  to  know  it ; 
for  every  year  they  come  again  to  occupy  the  boxes,  or 
perchance  old  hats,  which  were  put  up  for  them,  and  in 
them  they  build  their  nests,  and  there  they  live  rent  free  ; 
yet  not  exactly  so,  for  they  pay  us  with  their  notes. 

6.  Sometimes  these  little  people  have  a  deal  of  difliculty 
amonc:  themselves  about  these  habitations.  The  martins 
come,  and  find  the  bluebirds  have  taken  all  these  places, 
and  there  is  a  disturbance  directly.  After  some  considerable 
scolding,  and  twitting  on  facts,  the  martins  take  possession 
of  a  certain  portion  of  the  pigeon-cote,  and  keep  it  too,  — 
for  not  a  pigeon  dare  go  near  them,  —  while  the  smaller 
wrens  content  themselves  with  some  spare  corner  of  the 
portico,  where  they  forthwith  proceed  to  build  their  houses, 
with  all  the  architectural  skill  derived  from  their  great 
namesake,  the  builder  of  St.  Paul's.*  There  is  a  spice  of 
waggish  mischief  about  the  wren  somewhat  amusing. 

7.  Often  when  the  bluebird  has  left  his  house,  and  gone 
to  market  or  down  town,  the  wren  peeps  in,  and,  finding 
no  one  there,  proceeds  to  amuse  himself  by  pulling  out 
the  straws  and  feathers  in  the  nest ;  but  should  perchance 
the  bluebird  come  in  sight,  the  wren  remembers  that  there 
is  something  very  interesting  going  on  around  the  corner 
of  the  bam,  that  demands  his  immediate  attention. 

8.  These  birds  —  the  bluebird,  martin,  and  the  wren, 
together  with  the  swallows  (bam  and  chimney),  and 
"  honest  robin,"  who,  as  quaint  old  Walton  has  it,  "  loves 

♦  Tbe  architect  of  St.  Paul's,  in  London,  was  Sir  Christopher  Wren. 


THE   FIFTH   READER, 


211 


mankind,  both  alive  and  dead"  —  are  half  domesticated* 
They  love  to  live  near  man.  The  bluebird  and  the  robin 
are  the  only  two  among  them  who  appear  to  have  paid 
much  attention  to  the  cultivation  of  their  vocal  powers. 
They  salute  the  morning  with  sweet  songs.  The  wren  and 
other  small  birds  are  in  the  garden,  breakfasting  on  worms, 
or,  as  we  sometimes  express  it,  "getting  their  grub." 

9.  The  martin,  meanwhile,  listens  to  the  concert,  as  a 
critic,  or  as  one  of  the  audience;'"  for  he  sits  up  in  his  pri- 
vate box,  now  and  then  uttering  an  approving  note,  as  if 
of  applause.  Indeed,  the  martin  is  not  very  musical. 
Sometimes,  in  the  bosom  of  his  family,  when  he  feels  very 
social,  he  takes  up  his  pipe,  and  then  essays  a  song.  But 
he  never  gets  beyond  the  first  few  notes  of  "  Hi  Betty 
Martin,"  and  then  goes  off  on  tiptoe. 


1  Ab'dj-cate.  Relinquish  as  an  office 
or  station  ;  give  up  ;  surrender. 

a  Wer'cv-RV.  a  metal  which  is  fluid 
at  commou  temperatures ;  quick- 
silver. 

8  Tuer-mom'e-ter.  An  instrument 
for  measuring  degrees  of  heat. 

4  Ze'ro.  The  figure  naught ;  here,  the 
point  at  which  the  numbering  of 
the  degrees  on  a  thermometer  com- 
mences.     Zero,   in   the   common 


thermometer,  is  thirty-two  degreeg 
below  the  freezing  point  of  water. 
sjoc'VND.    Merry;  gay;  joyous. 

6  Op'?-ra.    a  musical  drama. 

7  TouR'jsT.  One  who  makes  a  tour  or 

journey. 

8  IiAR'BjN-9ER.  A  forerunner  ;  a  her- 

ald. 

9  Dq-mEs'ti-cat-ed.    Tamed;  living 

under  tlie  care  of  man. 
10  Au'dj-£nce.    Assembly  of  hearers. 


LYIL— BIRDS,   CONCLUDED. 


1.  But  here  we  have  a  jolly  little  fellow,  who  makes 
up  in  sociability  what  he  lacks  in  song.  The  small  house- 
sparrow  or,  as  he  is  generally  known,  the  "chippin'  bird," 
comes  to  our  very  doors.  lie  hops  along  the  piazza,  gath- 
ering "crumbs  of  comfort"  and  of  bread,  and  knows  that 
not  a  soul  within  the  house^  not  even  that  "unfeeling 
schoolboy,"  would  harm  a  feather  of  his  tail.     He  keops  a 


212  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

careful  eye,  however,  on  the  cat ;  for  he  is  perfectly  aware 
that  she  would  consider  him  only  a  swallow,  and  he  does 
not  like  to  lose  his  identity. 

2.  There  is  in  history  a  single  instance  where  this  bird 
seems  to  have  forgotten  his  character,  and  to  have  been  a 
destroyer,  rather  than,  as  he  is  called  by  boys,  a  "  sparer." 
Every  juvenile '  of  five  years,  who  is  at  all  read  in  the  litera- 
ture of  his  »ge,  knows  the  tragic  story  of  the  death  and  burial 
of  cock  robin.  That  interesting  individual  was  found  one 
morning  lying  on  the  ground,  with  a  murderous  weapon 
through  his  heart.  The  horror-stricken  birds  assembled. 
A  coroner's  inquest  was  holden.  The  first  inquiry  was,  of 
course,  "  Who  killed  cock  robin  ?  "  There  was  a  momen- 
tary silence ;  and  then  the  sparrow,  the  last  one  in  the 
crowd,  perhaps,  to  be  suspected,  confessed  the  deed.  He 
then  proceeds  to  state  how  it  was  done,  and  owns  he  "did 
it  with  his  bow  and  arrow." 

3.  "Caw!  caw!  caw!"  The  watchword  and  the  sig- 
nal of  alarm  or  caution  among  crows ;  or  else  it  is  the 
"dreadful  note  of  preparation"  summoning  the  lawless 
legions'  from  the  depths  of  the  pine  woods,  from  yonder 
hill,  from  far-off  forests,  to  come  and  help  pull  up  a  field 
of  com,  just  beginning  to  put  forth  its  tender  blades.  "  All 
these  and  more  come  flocking,"  for  there's  no  one  around ; 
the  scarecrow  was  blown  down  last  night ;  the  gun  is  lent ; 
the  boys  have  gone  to  school;  the  farmer  tumbled  ofi"  the 
hay-mow  yesterday  and  broke  his  leg :  and  so  the  crows 
proceed  with  the  destruction, 

"  unmoved 
With  dread  of  death,  to  flight,  or  foul  retreat." 

4.  The  crow  and  blackbird  both  are  an*ant^  rogues. 
The  last,  indeed,  renders  somewhat  of  service  in  the  early 
part  of  spring;  for,  following  the  furrows  of  the  field,  de- 
vouring countless  worms  and  grubs,  which  would  be  most 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  213 

destructive  to  tlie  coming  crop  of  corn,  all  day  long  he 
gleans  behind  the  plough,  a  perfect  little  Ruth.  But  when 
the  corn  comes,  he  devotes  himself  to  its  destruction  with 
a  perfect  ruthlessness '',  and  fills  his  own  crop  with  the 
farmer's  in  a  very  short  time. 

5.  Perchance,  should  any  one  appear  on  the  premises, 
he  gets  upon  the  fence,  and  whistles  very  unconcernedly, 
just  as  if  he  hadn't  been  doing  any  thing.  As  for  that 
bean  pole,  standing  in  the  centre  of  the  field,  dressed  in 
old  clothes,  and  bearing  some  faint  resemblance  to  a  re- 
turned Californian,  —  ha!  ha!  ha!  What  fools  men  are 
to  think  that  they  can  cheat  the  blackbird!  Why,  there 
are  five  of  them  at  this  moment  pulling  corn  for  dear  life, 
to  see  who  shall  get  through  his  row  the  first,  who  were 
born,  bred,  and  educated  in  the  very  hat  of  that  identical 
old  scarecrow.  To  be  sure,  when  it  was  first  set  up,  the 
birds  eyed  it  with  curiosity,  perhaps  mistrust,  but  it  never 
entered  their  heads  that  it  was  intended  to  resemble  a 
man ;  or  if  it  did,  it  soon  became  a  standing  joke  with 
them. 

6.  Every  farmer  hates  the  crow,  and  we  must  acknowl- 
edge he  is  not  a  very  lovable  bird.  He  has  neither  beauty 
nor  song;  for  his  eternal  caw!  caw!  is  a  note  renewed  so 
often  as  to  be  at  a  decided  discount.  Nor  has  he  civil- 
ity of  manners ;  and  his  ideas  concerning  private  property 
are  extremely  vague*.  Yet  of  all  the  bird  tribe,  he  is  far 
the  most  intelligent.  Nor  is  he  a  hypocrite®.  There  he  is, 
on  that  old  tree  by  the  road  side,  clothed  in  a  sable  suit, 
and,  as  you  go  by,  looks  demure^,  interesting,  and  melan- 
choly. But  should  there  be  a  gun  in  the  bottom  of  the 
wagon,  though  it  is  covered  carefully  with  a  bundle  of 
straw,  a  blanket  over  that,  and  a  large  fiit  boy  sitting  on 
top  of  all,  he  knows  it  is  there,  and,  trusty  sentinel,  alarms 
the  whole  community^  of  crows  in  the  region  round  about ; 
and  away  they  wing,  "  over  the  hills  and  far  away."    Caw ! 


214 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


caw!  caw!  You  didn't  catch  him  that  time.  He  is  very 
well  aware  that  you  intend  to  kill  him  —  if  you  can.  He 
just  wants  to  see  you  try  it  —  that's  all. 


1  Jfi'vE-NfLi:.    A  young  person. 

2  Le'^iqn  (le'jun).     A  large  body  of 

soldiers ;  a  great  number. 
»  Au'RANT.    Very  bad  ;  notorious  in  a 

bad  sense. 
*  RtiTH-LESS-Nfiss.      Want   of  pity  ; 

cruelty  ;  bard-heartedness. 


o  Vague  (vag).      Unfixed  ;  unsettled. 

0  HS'p'q-ckIte.    One  wlio  pretends  to 

be  what  he  is  not ;  a  dissembler. 

7  De-.mOre'.    Modest  and  pensive. 

8  CpM-MU'Nj  Ty.    A  society  of  individ- 

uals having  common  rights  andia- 
terests. 


LVIIL  — AFTER  MARRIAGE. 

Sheridan. 

[Eichard  Brinslcy  Sheridan,  a  celebrated  orator  and  dramatic  writer, was  bom  iq 
Dublin,  Ireland,  in  1751,  and  died  in  1816.  His  principal  plays  are  "  The  Rivals," 
"  The  Duenna,"  "  The  School  for  Scandal,"  and  "  The  Critic."  They  are  all 
marked  by  brilliant  wit  and  pointed  dialogue,  and  "  The  School  for  Scandal "  is 
perhaps  the  most  finished  comedy  in  the  language.  He  was  a  very  eflective 
speaker  in  Parliament.  Thei^  was  little  that  was  estimable  or  respectable  in 
Sheridan's  character.  TleWjis  always  in  a  state  of  pecuniary  embarrassment, 
and  in  his  Inter  years  too  often  sought  oblivion  in  that  fatal  source  of  allevia- 
tion, the  bottle.    The  following  scene  is  from  «'  The  School  for  Scandal."] 

Lady  Teazle  and  Sib  Peter. 

Sir  Peter.    Lady  Teazle,  Lady  Teazle,  I'll  not  bear  it ! 

Lady  Teazle.  Sir  Peter,  Sir  Peter,  you  may  bear  it  or 
not,  as  you  please ;  but  I  ought  to  have  my  own  way  in 
every  tiling ;  and  what's  more,  I  will  too.  j  What !  though 
I  was  educated  in  the  country,  I  know  very  well  that 
women  of  fashion  in  London  are  accountable  to  nobody 
after  they  are  married. 

Sir  P.  Very  well,  ma'am,  very  well  —  so  a  husband  is 
to  have  no  influence,  no  authority  ? 

Lady  T.  Authority!  No,  to  be  sure:  —  if  you  wanted 
authority  over  me,  you  should  have  adopted  me,  an(^  not 
married  me ;  I  am  sure  you  were  old  enough. 


THE   FIFTH  READER.  215 

Sir P,  Old  enough!  —  ay  —  there  it  is.  Well,  well, 
Lady  Teazle,  though  my  life  may  be  made  unhappy  by 
your  temper,  I'll  not  be  ruined  by  your  extravagance. 

JLady  T.  My  extravagance  !  I'm  •  sure  I'm  not  more 
extravagant  than  a  woman  ought  to  be. 

Sir  P.  No,  no,  madam,  you  shall  throw  away  no  more 
sums  on  such  unmeaning  luxury.  Indeed !  to  spend  aa 
much  to  furnish  your  dressing-room  with  flowers  in  wintei 
as  would  suffice  to  turn  the  Pantheon  *  into  a  green-house  \ 

Lady  T.  Why,  Sir  Peter!  am  I  to  blame,  because 
flowers  are  dear  in  cold  weather  ?  You  should  find  fault 
with  the  climate,  and  not  with  me.  For  my  part,  I'm  sure, 
I  wish  it  were  spring  all  the  year  round,  and  that  roses  grew 
tinder  our  feet ! 

Sir  P.  Zounds!  madam  —  if  you  had  been  born  to 
this,  I  shouldn't  wonder  at  your  talking  thus;  but  you 
forget  what  your  situation  was  when  I  married  you. 

Lady  T.  No,  no,  I  don't;  'twas  a  very  disagreeable 
one,  or  I  should  never  have  married  you. 

Sir  P.  Yes,  yes,  madam,  you  were  then  in  somewhat  a 
humbler  style,  —  the  daughter  of  a  plain  country  squira 
Recollect,  Lady  Teazle,  when  I  saw  you  first  sitting  at 
your  tambour  \  in  a  pretty  figured  lineh  gown,  with  a  bunch 
of  keys  at  your  side,  your  hair  combed  smooth  over  a 
roll,  and  your  apartment  hung  round  with  fruitfi  in  worsted 
of  your  own  working. 

Ljady  T.  O,  yes !  I  remember  it  very  well,  and  a  curious 
life  I  led,  —  my  daily  occupation  to  inspect  the  dairy, 
superintend'  the  poultry,  make  extracts  from  the  family 
receipt-book,  and  comb  my  aunt  Deborah's  lap-dog. 

Sir  P,    Yes,  yes,  ma'am,  'twas  so,  indeed. 

Lady  T.  And  then,  you  know,  my  evening  amuse- 
ments;—  to  draw  patterns  for  ruffles,  which  I  had  not 

*  P^N-THE'Qsr.  A  temple  dedicated  to  all  the  gods.  The  Pantheon  at  Rome, 
now  comparatively  in  ruins,  is  one  of  the  most  splendid  remains  of  the  ancien**. 


216  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

materials  to  make  up ;  to  play  Pope  Joan^  with  the  curate; 
to  read  a  novel  to  my  aunt ;  or  to  be  stuck  down  to  an  old 
spinet*  to  strum  my  father  to  sleep  after  a  fox-chase. 

/S'tV  JP.  I  am  glad  you  have  so  good  a  memory.  Yes, 
madam,  these  were  the  recreations  I  took  you  from; 
but  now  you  must  have  your  coach  —  vis-a-vis^ — and 
three  powdered  footmen  before  your  chair;  and,  in  the 
summer,  a  pair  of  white  cats  to  draw  you  to  Kensington 
Gardens.  No  recollection,  I  suppose,  when  you  were  con- 
tent to  ride  double,  behind  the  butler,  on  a  docked  coach- 
horse. 

Xady  T.  No  —  I  never  did  that :  I  deny  the  butler  and 
the  coach-horse. 

Sir  P.  This,  madam,  was  your  situation ;  and  what 
have  I  done  for  you?  I  have  made  you  a  woman  of 
fashion,  of  fortune,  of  rank ;  in  short,  I  have  made  you 
my  wife. 

Lady  T,  Well,  then  ;  and  there  is  but  one  thing  more 
you  can  make  me,  to  ^dd  to  the  obligation,  and  that  is  — 

Sir  P.    My  widoljgjf'pappose  ? 

Lady  T,    Hem !  h^  T 

Sir  P.  I  thank  you,  madam  ;  but  don't  flatter  yourself; 
for  though  your  ill  conduct  may  disturb  my  peace  of  mind, 
it  shall  never  break  my  heart,  I  promise  you :  however,  I 
am  equally  obliged  to  you  for  the  hint. 

Lady  T.  Then  why  will  you  endeavor  to  make  your- 
self so  disagreeable  to  me,  and  thwart  me  in  every  little 
elegant  expense  ? 

Sir  P.  Indeed,  madam,  had  you  any  of  these  little 
elegant  expenses  when  you  married  me  ? 

Jjady  T.  Why,  Sir  Peter !  would  you  have  me  be  out 
of  the  fashion  ? 

Sir  P.  The  fashion,  indeed  !  What  had  you  to  do  with 
the  fashion  before  you  married  me  ? 

Lady  T.  For  my  part,  I  should  think  you  would  like 
to  have  your  wife  thought  a  woman  of  taste. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  217 

Sir  jP,  Ay ;  there  again  —  taste.  Zounds !  madam,  you 
had  no  taste  when  you  married  me ! 

JLadi/  T.  That's  very  true  indeed,  Sir  Peter;  and  after 
having  married  you,  I  sliould  never  pretend  to  taste  again, 
I  allow.  But  now.  Sir  Peter,  since  we  have  finished  our 
daily  jangle,  I  presume  I  may  go  to  my  engagement  at 
Lady  Sneerwell's. 

Sir  P.  Ay,  there's  another  precious  circumstance  —  a 
charming  set  of  acquaintance  you  have  made  there. 

Ijady  T.  Nay,  Sir  Peter,  they  are  all  people  of  rank 
and  fortune,  and  remarkably  tenacious®  of  reputation. 

Sir  P.  Yes,  they  are  tenacious  of  reputation  with 
a  vengeance;  for  they  don't  choose  any  body  should 
have  a  character  but  themselves!  —  Such  a  crew  H  Ah! 
many  a  wretch  has  rid  on  a  hurdle'  who  has-dene  less 
mischief  than  these  utterers  of  forged  tales,  coiners  of 
scandal,  and  clippers  of  reputation. 

Lady  T.  What !  would  you  restrain  the  freedom  of 
speech  ? 

Sir  P.  Ah!  they  have  made  you  just  as  bad  as  any 
one  of  the  society. 

Zady  T.  Why,  I  believe  I  do  bear  a  part  with  a  toler- 
able grace. 

Sir  P.    Grace,  indeed  ! 

Lady  T.  But  I  vow  I  bear  no  malice  against  the  people 
I  abuse.  When  I  say  an  ill-natured  thing,  'tis  out  of  pure 
good-humor ;  and  I  take  it  for  granted,  they  deal  exactly 
in  the  same  manner  with  me.  But,  Sir  Peter,  you  know 
you  promised  to  come  to  Lady  Sneerwell's  too. 

Sir  P.  Well,  well,  I'll  call  in  just  to  look  after  my  ow^n 
character. 

Lady  T.  Then  indeed  you  must  make  haste  after  me, 
or  you'll  be  too  late.    So,  good-by  to  you.     [Exit  lady  teazle. 

Sir  P.  So  —  I  have  gained  miich  by  my  intended 
expostulation^:  yet,  with  what  a  charming  air  slie  contra- 
19 


218 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


diets  every  thing  I  say,  and  how  pleasingly  she  shows  her 
contempt  for  my  authority !  Well,  though  I  can't  make 
her  love  me,  there  is  great  satisfaction  in  quarrelling  with 
her ;  and  I  think  she  never  appears  to  such  advantage,  as 
when  she  is  doing  every  thing  in  her  power  to  plague  me. 

[Exit. 


1  TAm'bour.  a  frame  on  which  cloth 
is  stretched  for  convenience  of  em- 
broidering. 

«  Su-p?r-in-t£nd'.  Have  the  care  or 
direction  of;  overlook. 

8  Pope  Joan  (-j5n).    A  game  at  cards. 

4  SpIn'^t.  a  stringed  musical  instru- 
ment of  the  harp  kind,  formerif 
much  in  use. 

»  VIs'a-vIs  (vlz'a-v2).     Face  to  face ; 


here,  a  carriage  for  two  persons 
who  sit  opposite  to  each  other. 
0  TE-NA'cioys  (-shus).    Holding  fast; 
retentive. 

7  HUr'dle.    a  sort  of  sledge  on  which 

criminals  were  drawn  to  execution. 

8  ipx-POST'v-LA-TiON.       Earnest    re- 

monstrance ;  act  of  reasoning  ear- 
nestly with  a  person,  on  some  im- 
propriety of  conduct. 


LIX.  — THE  PASSAGE. 

UlILAND.  y 

[Johann  Ludwig  Uhland  was  born  in  TUbingen,  April  2f>,  1787,  and  died  No- 
YPmber  13,  ISCrZ.  Among  the  recent  poeta  ol"  Germany  he  holds  a  very  high 
place.  He  wrote  dramas,  ballads,  odes,  and  lyrical  pieces.  IJiit  few  of  his 
poftms  have  been  translated  into  English,  and  these  have  a  dreamy  and  spiiltual 
beauty,  and  much  tenderness  of  feeling.] 

1.  Many  a  year  is  in  its  grave 
Since  I  crossed  this  restless  wave ; 
And  the  evening,  fair  as  ever, 
Shines  on  ruin,  rock,  and  river. 

2.  Then  in  this  same  boat  beside 
Sat  two  comrades  old  and  tried  j 
One  with  all  a  father's  truth, 
One  with  all  the  fire  of  youth. 


One  on  earth  in  silence  wrought \ 
And  his  grave  in  silence  sought ; 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  219 

But  the  younger,  brighter  form 
Passed '^  in  battle  and  in  storm. 

4.  So,  whene'er  I  turn  my  eye 
Back  upon  the  days  gone  by, 

Maddening  thoughts  of  friends  come  o'er  me  — 
Friends  who  closed  their  course  before  me. 

5.  But  what  binds  us,  friend  to  friend, 
But  that  soul  with  soul  can  blend  ? 
Soul-Uke  were  those  days  of  yore  — 
Let  us  walk  in  soul  once  more. 

6.  Take,  O  boatman,  thrice  thy  fee ; 
Take,  I  give  it  willingly ; 

For,  invisible  to  thee. 

Spirits  twain  have  crossed  with  me. 

»  Vl^RouGHT  (riwt).    Worked.  |    2  PAssed.    Departed  from  life. 


LX.  — BINGEN   ON  THE  RHINE. 

Mrs.  Caroline  Norton. 

[This  poem  was  written  by  Mrs.  Caroline  Norton,  nn  English  lady,  grand 
daughter  of  the  celebrated  R.  B.  Sheridan.  Bingen  is  a  beautiful  town  on  the 
left  bank  of  the  Khine,  in  Germany.] 

1. 

A  SOLDIER  of  the  Legion  lay  dying  in  Algiers, 

There  was  lack  of  woman's  nursing,  there  was  dearth  of  woman's  tears 
But  a  comrade  stood  beside  him,  while  his  life-blood  ebbed  away, 
And  bent,  with  pitying  glances,  to  hear  what  he  might  say  : 
The  dying  soldier  faltered,  and  he  took  that  comrade's  hand, 
And  he  said,  ••!  never  more  shall  see  my  own,  my  native  land  : 
Take  a  message,  and  a  token,  to  some  distant  friends  of  mine* 
For  1  was  born  at  Bingen,*  —  at  Bingen  on  the  Rhine. 

*  Pronounced  Blng'^u. 


,220  .  THE    FIFTH   READER. 

2. 

«'  Tell  my  brothers  and  companions,  when  they  meet  and  crowd  around, 
To  hear  my  mournful  story,  in  the  pleasant  vineyard  *  ground, 
That  we  fought  the  battle  bravely,  and  when  the  day  was  done, 
Full  many  a  corse  lay  ghastly  pale,  beneath  the  setting  sun ; 
And,  'mid  the  dead  and  dying,  were  some  grown  old  in  wars,  — 
The  death- wound  on  their  gallant  breasts,  the  last  of  many  scars  ; 
And  some  were  young,  and  suddenly  beheld  life's  morn  decline,  — 
And  one  had  come  from  Bingen,  —  fair  Bingen  on  the  Ehine. 

3. 

♦'  Tell  my  mother,  that  her  other  son  shall  comfort  her  old  age  ; 

For  1  was  still '  a  truant  bird,  that  thought  his  home  a  cage. 

For  my  father  was  a  soldier,  and  even  as  a  child 

My  heart  leaped  forth  to  hear  him  tell  of  struggles  fierce  and  wild ; 

And  when  he  died,  and  left  us  to  divide  his  scanty  hoard  ', 

I  let  them  take  whate'er  they  would,  —  but  kept  my  father's  sword  ; 

And  with  boyish  love  I  himg  it  where  the  bright  light  used  to  shine, 

On  the  cottage  wall  at  Bingen,  —  qalm  Bingen  on  the  Rhine. 

4. 
••  Tell  my  sister  not  to  weep  for  me,  and  sob  with  drooping  head, 
When  the  troops  come  marching  home  again, with  glad  and  gallanttread ; 
But  to  look  upon  them  proudly,  with  a  calm  and  steadfast  eye, 
For  her  brother  was  a  soldier,  too,  and  not  afraid  to  die  : 
And  if  a  comrade  seek  her  love,  I  ask  her  in  my  name, 
To  listen  to  him  kindly,  without  regret  or  shame  ; 
And  to  hang  the  old  sword  in  its  place  (my  father's  sword  and  mine), 
For  the  honor  of  old  Bingen,  —  dear  Bingen  on  the  Rhine. 

5. 

"  There's  another  —  not  a  sister  ;  in  the  happy  days  gone  by ; 
You'd  have  known  her  by  the  merriment  that  sparkled  in  her  eye ; 
Too  innocent  for  co'quetry  *,  —  too  fond  for  idle  scorning,  — 
C),  friend  !  I  fear  the  lightest  heart  makes  sometimes  heaviest  mourning ! 
Tell  her  the  last  night  of  my  life,  —  (for  ere  the  moon  be  risen, 
!My  body  will  be  out  of  pain,  my  soul  be  out  of  prison),  — 
I  dreamed  I  stood  with  her,  and  saw  the  yellow  sunlight  shine 
Oa  the  vine-clad  hills  of  Bingen,  —  fair  Bingen  on  the  Rhine. 

6. 
"  I  saw  the  blue  Rhine  sweep  along,  —  1  heard,  or  seemed  to  hear. 
The  German  songs  we  used  to  sing,  in  chorus  Bweet  and  clear ; 


THE   FIFTH  READER.  2^1 

And  down  the  pleasant  river,  and  up  the  slanting  hill, 

The  echoing  chorus  sounded,  through  the  evening  calm  and  still ; 

And  her  glad  blue  eyes  were  on  me,  as  we  passed  with  friendly  talk, 

Down  many  a  path  beloved  of  yore,  and  well- remembered  walk  ! 

And  her  little  hand  lay  lightly,  confidingly  in  mine,  — 

But  we'll  meet  no  more  at  Bingen,  —  loved  Bingcn  on  the  Ilhine." 

7. 
His  trembling  voice  grew  faint  and  hoarse,  —  his  grasp  was  childish 

weak,  — 
His  eyes  put  on  a  dying  look,  —  he  sighed  and  ceased  to  speak ; 
His  comrade  beiit  to  lift  him,  but  the  spark  of  life  had  fled,  — 
The  soldier  of  the  Legion  in  a  foreign  land  was  dead  ! 
And  the  soft  moon  rose  up  slowly,  and  calmly  she  looked  down 
On  the  red  sand  of  the  battle-field,  with  bloody  corses  strewn  ; 
Yes,  calmly  on  that  dreadful  scene  her  pale  light  seemed  to  shine, 
As  it  shone  on  distant  Bingen,  —  fair  Bingen  on  the  Ilhine. 


1  vine' YARD.  An  enclosure  for  grape- 

vines. 

2  StIll.    Always  ;  ever. 

H6ARD.    A  store  laid  up ;  a  treasure. 


4  Cp  qu£t'ky  (here  pronounced  co'- 
quet-ry).  The  character  and  prac 
tice  of  a  coquette  ;  deceit  or  trifling 
iu  love ;  flirtatiou. 


LXL  — THE  VOICE   OF  THE  WAVES.* 

Mrs.  Hemans. 

1.  "  Answer,  ye  chiming '  waves, 

That  now  in  sunshine  sweep ; 
Speak  to  me  from  thy  hidden  caves, 
Voice  of  the  solemn  deep ! 

2.  "Hath  man's  lone  spirit  here 

With  storms  in  battle  striven  ? 
Where  all  is  now  so  calmly  clear, 
Hath  anguish  cried  to  Heaven  ?  " 

3.  .Then  the  sea's  voice  arose. 

Like  an  earthquake's  under-tone, — 

*  Written  near  the  scene  of  a  recent  shipwreck. 

19* 


222  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

«  Mortal,  the  strife  of  human  woes 
Where  hath  not  nature  known  ? 

4.  "  Here  to  the  quivering  mast 
Despair  hath  wildly  clung ; 
The  shriek  upon  the  wind  hath  past, 
The  midnight  sky  hath  rung. 

^  5.   "  And  the  youthful  and  the  brave 
With  their  beauty  and  renown, 
To  the  hollow  chambers  of  the  wave 
In  darkness  have  gone  down. 

6.  "  They  are  vanished  from  their  place,  — 

Let  their  homes  and  hearths  make  moan  J 
But  the  rolling  waters  keep  no  trace 
Of  pang  or  conflict  gone." 

7.  "  Alas  !  thou  haughty  deep ! 

The  strong,  the  sounding-far! 
My  heart  before  thee  dies,  —  I  weep 
To  think  on  what  we  are  ! 

8.  "  To  think  that  so  we  pass, 

High  hope,  and  thought,  and  mind, 
E'en  as  the  breath-stain  from  the  glass, 
Leaving  no  sign  behind  ! 

9.  "  Saw'st  thou  nought  else,  thou  main, 

Thou  and  the  midnight  sky,  — 
Nought,  save  the  struggle,  brief  and  vain, 
The  parting  agony  ?  " 

10.   And  the  sea's  voice  replied, — 

"  Here  nobler  things  have  been  I 
Power  with  the  valiant  *  when  they  died, 
To  sanctify''  the  scene  ; 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


223 


11.  Courage,  in  fragile''  form, 

Faith,  trusting  to  the  last. 
Prayer,  breathing  heavenward  through  the  storai,- 
But  all  alike  have  passed." 

12.  "  Sound  on,  thou  haughty  sea  ! 

These  have  not  passed  in  vain ; 
My  soul  awakes,  my  hope  springs  free 
On  victor  wings  again. 

13.  "  Thou  from  thine  empire  driven, 

May'st  vanish  with  thy  powers; 
But,  by  the  hearts  that  here  have  striven, 
A  loftier  doom  is  ours  ! " 


I  ChIm'jng.    Sounding'  in  harmony. 
I  VAl'iant    (vSLl'ygnt).      Intrepid  in 
duuger;  heroic;  brave. 


3  SXNC'Ti-Fy.  Tomakeholyoffiacred  J 

to  consecrate. 
*  FrX^'jle.    Frail  j  easily  brokea 


LXII.  — CONTRAST  BETWEEN   ADAMS  AND 
NAPOLEON. 

Seward. 

[William  Henry  Seward  was  born  in  Florida,  New  York,  May  lv{,  1801.  He 
was  g-raduated  at  Union  College,  in  1819,  and  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1822.  He 
was  chosen  governor  of  New  York  by  the  whigs,  and  reelected  in  1846.  In 
February,  1849,  he  was  chosen  to  the  Senate  of  the  United  States,  and  continued 
a  member  of  that  body  till  the  election  of  President  Lincoln,  when  he  became 
a  member  of  his  cabinet  as  Secretary  of  State.  He  is  a  man  of  patient  and  per- 
severing industry,  and  his  speeches,  which  are  always  carefully  prepared,  are 
marked  by  great  literary  merit. 

The  following  extract  is  from  a  eutogy  on  John  Quincy  Adams,  delivered 
before  the  legislature  of  New  York,  February  23, 1848.] 

1.  Only  two  years  after  the  birth  of  John  Quincy  Ad- 
ams, there  appeared  on  an  island  in  the  Mediterranean  Sea, 
a  human  spirit,  newly  born,  endowed  with  equal  genius, 
without  the  regulating  qualities  of  justice  and  benevolence 


224  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

which  Adams  possessed  in  so  eminent  a  degree.  A  like 
career  opened  to  both.  Born  like  Adams,  a  subject  of  a 
king,  —  the  child  of  more  genial  skies,  like  him,  became, 
in  early  life,  a  patriot,  and  a  citizen  of  a  new  and  great 
Kepublic.  Like  Adams,  he  lent  his  service  to  the  state  in 
precocious '  youth,  and  in  its  hour  of  need,  and  won  its 
confidence.  But,  unlike  Adams,  he  could  not  wait  the 
dulUdelays  of  slow  and  laborious,  but  sure  advancement. 
He  sought  power  by  the  hasty  road  that  leads  through 
fields  of  carnage;  and  he  became,  like  Adams,  a  supreme 
magistrate,  a  consul '. 

2.  But  there  were  other  consuls.  He  was  not  content. 
He  thrust  them  aside,  and  was  consul  alone.  Consular 
power  was  too  short.  He  fought  new  battles,  and  was 
consul  for  life.-  But  power,  confessedly  derived  from  the 
people,  must  be  Exercised  in  obedience  to  their  will,  and 
must  be  resigned  to  them  again,  at  least  in  death.  He 
was  not  content.  He  desolated  Europe  afresh,  subverted 
the  Republic,  imprisoned  the  patriarch  ^  who  presided  over 
Home's  comprehensive  see*,  and  obliged  him  to  pour  on  his 
head  the  sacred  oil  that  made  the  persons  of  kings  divine, 
and  their  right  to  reign  indefeasible."    He  was  an  Emperor. 

3.  But  he  saw  around  him  a  mother,  brothers,  and  sisters, 
not  ennobled,  whose  humble  state  reminded  him  and  the 
world  that  he  was  born  a  plebeian^ ;  and  he  had  no  heir  to 
wait  impatient  for  the  imperial  crown.  He  scourged  the 
earth  again ;  and  again  Fortune  smiled  on  him,  even  in 
his  wild  extravagance.  He  bestowed  kingdoms  and  prin- 
cipalities on  his  kindred ;  put  away  the  devoted  wife  of 
jiis  youthful  days,  and  another,  a  daughter  of  Hapsburg's 
imperial  house,  joyfully  accepted  his  proud  alliance.  Off- 
spring gladdened  his  anxious  sight ;  a  diadem  was  placed 
on  its  infant  brow,  and  it  received  the  homage  of  princes, 
even  in  its  cradle.  Now  he  was  indeed  a  monarch,  —  a 
legitimate  monarch  —  a  monarch  by  divine  appointment, 


1 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  225 

. —  the  first  of  an  endless  succession  of  monarchs.  But 
there  were  other  monarchs  who  held  sway  on  the  earth. 
He  was  not  content.  He  would  reign  wich  his  kindred 
alone. 

4.  He  gathered  new  and  greater  armies  from  his  own  land, 
—  from  subjugated  lands.  He  called  forth  the  young  and 
brave,  —  one  from  every  household,  —  from  the  Pyrenees  * 
to  the  Zuyder  Zee  t,  —  fi'oni  Jura  J  to  the  ocean.  'He  mar- 
shalled them  into  long  and  majestic  columns,  and  went 
forth  to  seize  that  universal  dominion  which  seemed  almost 
within  his  grasp. 

5.  But  Ambition  had  tempted  Fortune  too  far.  The  na- 
tions of  the  earth  resisted,  repelled,  pursued,  surrounded 
him.  The  pageant  was  ended.  Th6  crown  fell  from  his 
presumptuous  head.  The  wife  who  had  wedded  him  in 
his  pride,  forsook  him  in  the  hour  when  fear  came  upon 
him.  His  child  was  ravished''  from  his  sight.  His  kinsmen 
were  degraded  to  their  first  estate**;  and  he  Avas  no  longer 
emperor,  nor  consul,  nor  general,  nor  even  a  citizen,  but 
an  exile  and  a  prisoner,  on  a  lonely  island,  in  the  midst 
of  the  wild  Atlantic. 

6.  Discontent  attended  him  there.  The  wa}nvard  man 
fretted  out  a  few  long  years  of  his  yet  unbroken  manhood, 
looking  ofiT  at  the  earliest  dawn,  and  in  evening's  latest 
twilight,  towards  that  distant  world  that  had  only  just  elud- 
ed his  grasp.  His  heart  became  corroded.*  Death  came, 
not  unlooked  for;  though  it  came  even  then  unwelcome. 
He  was  stretched  on  his  bed  within  the  fort  which  consti- 
tuted his  prison.  A  few  fast  and  faithful  friends  stood 
around,  with  the  guards  who  rejoiced  that  the  hour  of  re- 
Hef  from  long  and  wearisome  watching  was  at  hand. 

7.  As  his  strength  wasted  away,  delirium  stiiTed  up  the 

*  P?r'e-nee§.    a  range  of  mountains  between  France  and  Spain. 

t  Zuy'deu  Zee.    A  large  body  of  water  in  Holland. 

i  JC'ra.     a  range  of  mountains  between  France  and  Switzerland. 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


brain  fi-oni  its  long  and  inglorious  inactivity.  The  pageant 
of  Ambition  returned.  He  was  again  a  lieuten  ant,  a  colonel, 
a  general,  an  emperor  of  France.  He  filled  again  the  throne 
of  Charlemagne.*  His  kindred  j^ressed  around  him,  again 
invested  with  the  pompous  pageantry  of  royalty.  The 
daughter  of  the  long  line  of  kings  again  stood  proudly  by 
his  side,  and  the  sunny  face  of  his  child  shone  out  from 
beneath  the  diadem  that  encircled  its  flowing  locks. 

8.  The  Marshals '°  of  the  Empire  awaited  his  command. 
The  legions  of  the  Old  Guard  f  were  in  the  field ;  their 
scarred  faces  rejuvenated",  and  their  ranks,  thinned  in 
many  battles,  replenished.  Russia,  Prussia,  Austria,  Den- 
mark, and  England  gathered  their  mighty  hosts  to  give 
him  battle.  Once  more  he  mounted  his  impatient  charger, 
and  rushed  forth  to  conquest.  He  waved  his  sword  aloft, 
and  cried,  "-The  cVArmee!  "*"  The  feverish  vision  broke, 
—  the  mockery  was  ended.  The  silver  cord  was  loosed, 
and  the  warrior  fell  back  upon  his  bed  a  lifeless  corpse ! 
This  was  the  end  op  earth.    The  Corsican  was  not 

CONTENT. 

Statesmen  and  Citizens! 
own  impressive  moral. 


The  contrast  suggests  its 


t  Pre-co'ciovs.  Ripe  or  mature  be- 
fore the  natural  time. 

«  CSn'sDl..  One  of  the  three  chief 
magistrates  of  France  from  1799  to 
1804. 

»  PA'TRi  ARjEii.  The  father  or  head  of 
a  family  among  the  ancient  Israel- 
ites ;  here,  applied  to  the  Pope,  the 
highest  dignitary  of  the  church. 

*  S£e.  The  jurisdiction  of  a  bishop  ; 
the  office  or  authority  of  the  Pope. 

6  In-de-fea'§ible.  Incapable  of  be- 
ing defeated  or  made  void. 

«  Ple-be'ian.  One  of  the  common 
people  or  lower  order  of  citizens. 


t  RAv'fSHED.  Taken  away  by  vio- 
lence. 

8  Es  TATE'.    Condition  in  life  ;  state  ; 

property  ;  fortune. 

9  Cor  rod'ed.     Eaten    away;    con- 

sumed. 

10  MXr'sHvJlL.  In  France,  the  highest 
military  officer. 

"  Re-jO've-nAt-?d.  Made  young 
again. 

13  Tetk  d'' ARMkE.  (tat-d'lr-ma')* 
French  words,  meaning  "  head  of 
the  army."  They  were  said  to 
have  been  spoken  by  Napoleon 
Bonaparte  in  his  last  moments. 


*  Charl,emagne  (shsir'le-man),  or  Charles  the  Great,  a  famous  king  of 
France,  who  ruled  over  the  greater  part  of  Europe  in  the  eighth  century. 

t  Old  Guard.  A  select  body  of  troops  that  bore  a  distinguished  part  in  the 
Campaigns  of  Napoleon. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  227 

LXIII  —  SALADIN  AND   MALEK  ADHEL. 

New  Monthly  Magazine. 

Attendant.  A  stranger  craves  admission  to  your  HighnessL 

SalacUn.    Whence  comes  he  ? 

Att.    That  I  know  not. 
Enveloped  in  a  vestment  of  strange  form, 
His  countenance  is  hidden,  but  his  step, 
His  lofty  port,  his  voice,  in  vain  disguised. 
Proclaim  —  if  that  I  dared  pronounce  it — 

Sal    Whom? 

Att.    Thy  royal  brother. 

Sal.    Bring  him  instantly.  fExit  attendant. 

Kow  with  his  specious',  smooth,  persuasive  tongue, 
Fraught  with  some  wily  subterfuge  2,  he  thinks 
To  dissipate  my  anger  —  he  shall  die. 

[Enter  Attendant  and  3Ialek:  Adiiel.]  " 

Sal.  Leave  us  together.  [Exit  attendant.]    [Aside.]  I  should 
know  that  form. 
Now  summon  all  thy  fortitude,  my  soul ; 
Nor,  though  thy  blood  cry  for  him,  spare  the  guilty. 
[Aloud.]    Well,  stranger,  speak  ;  but  first  unveil  thyself 
For  Saladin  must  view  the  form  that  fronts  him. 

Malek  Adhel.    Behold  it,  then  ! 

Sal.    I  see  a  traitor's  visage. 

3Ial.  Ad.    A  brother's. 

Sal.    No — 
Saladin  owns  no  kindred  with  a  villain. 

Mai.  Ad.  O,  patience.  Heaven  !  Had  any  tongue  but  thine 
Uttered  that  word,  it  ne'er  should  speak  another. 

Sal.    And  why  not  now  ?    Can  this  heart  be  more  pierced 
By  Malek  Adhel's  sword  than  by  his  deeds  ? 
O,  thou  hast  made  a  desert  of  this  bosom  I 
For  open  candor,  planted  sly  disguise ; 
For  confidence,  suspicion ;  and  the  glow 


228  THE   FIFTH  .READER. 

Of  generous  friendship,  tenderness  and  love, 
Forever  banished.    Whither  can  I  turn, 
When  he,  by  blood,  by  gratitude,  by  faith. 
By  every  tie,  bound  to  support,  forsakes  me  ? 
Who,  who  can  stand,  when  Malek  Adhel  falls  ? 
Henceforth  I  turn  rae  from  the  sweets  of  love. 
The  smiles  of  friendship  ;  and  this  glorious  world, 
In  which  all  find  some  heart  to  rest  upon, 
Shall  be  to  Saladin  a  cheerless  void : 
His  brother  has  betrayed  him ! 

Mai  Ad.    Thou  art  softened ; 
I  am  thy  brother,  then;  but  late  thou  saidst  — 
My  tongue  can  never  utter  the  base  title. 

Sal.    Was  it  traitor  ?    True  — 
Thou  hast  betrayed  me  in  my  fondest  hopes. 
Villain  ?  'Ti_s  just ;  the  title  is  appropriate. 
Dissembler  ^  ?    'Tis  not  written  in  thy  face ; 
No,  nor  imprinted  on  that  specious  brow. 
But  on  this  breaking  heart  the  name  is  stamped, 
Forever  stamped,  with  that  of  Malek  Adhel. 
Thinkest  thou  I'm  softened  ?    By  Mohammed,  these  hands 
Should  crush  these  aching  eyeballs,  ere  a  tear 
Fall  from  them  at  thy  fate  !  —  O  monster,  monster  I 
The  brute  that  tears  the  infant  from  its  nurse 
Is  excellent  to  thee,  for  in  his  form 
The  impulse  of  his  nature  may  be  read ;  — 
But  thou,  so  beautiful,  so  proud,  so  noble, 
O,  what  a  wretcli  art  thou !     O,  can  a  term 
In  all  the  various  tongues  of  man  be  found 
To  match  thy  infamy  ? 

Mai.  Ad.    Go  on,  go  on ; 
'Tis  but  a  little  while  to  hear  thee,  Saladin, 
And,  bursting  at  thy  feet,  this  heart  will  prove 
Its  penitence  at  least. 

JSal,    That  were  an  end 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  229 

Too  noble  for  a  traitor;  the  bowstring"  is 
A  more  appropriate  finish  —  thou  shalt  die! 

3IalAd.  And  death  were  welcome  at  another's  mandate 
What,  what  have  I  to  live  for  ?    Be  it  so, 
If  that  in  all  thy  armies  can  be  found 
An  executing  hand. 

Sal.    O,  doubt  it  not ! 
They're  eager  for  the  office.     Perfidy, 
So  black  as  thine,  effaces  from  their  minds 
All  memory  of  thy  former  excellence. 

3Ial.  Ad.    Defer  not  then  their  wishes.     Saladin, 
If  e'er  this  form  was  joyful  to  thy  sight. 
This  voice  seemed  grateful  to  thine  ear,  accede 
To  my  last  prayer  —  O,  lengthen  not  this  scene, 
To  which  the  agonies  of  death  were  jjleasing  — 
Let  me  die  speedily. 

Sal.    This  very  hour ! 
[Aside.]   For  —  oh !  the  more  I  look  upon  that  face, 
The  more  I  hear  the  accents  of  that  voice, 
The  monarch  softens,  and  the  judge  is  lost 
In  all  the  brother's  weakness ;  yet  such  guilt, 
Such  vile  ingratitude !  it  calls  for  vengeance, 
And  vengeance  it  shall  have !  What,  ho !  who  waits  there? 

[Enter  Attendant.] 

Att.    Did  your  Highness  call  ? 

Sal.    Assemble  quickly 
My  forces  in  the  court !  —  tell  them  they  come 
To  view  the  death  of  yonder  bosom-traitor; 
And  bid  them  mark,  that  he  who  wiH  not  spare 
His  brother  when  he  errs,  expects  obedience. 
Silent  obedience,  from  his  followers.  [Exit  Attendani 

3Ial.  Ad.    Now,  Saladin, 
The  word  is  given  —  I  have  nothing  more 
To  fear  from  thee,  my  brother.  —  I  am  not 
About  to  crave  a  miserable  life  — 
20 


280  THE   FIFTH  READER. 

Without  thy  love,  thy  honor,  thy  esteem, 
Life  were  a  burden  to  me.   Think  not,  either, 
The  justice  of  thy  sentence  I  would  question : 
But  one  request  now  trembles  on  my  tongue. 
One  wish  still  clinging  round  the  heart,  which  soon 
Not  even  that  shall  torture.  —  Will  it  then, 
Thinkest  thou,  thy  slumbers  render  quieter, 
Thy  waking  thoughts  more  pleasing,  to  reflect. 
That  when  thy  voice  had  doomed  a  brother's  death, 
The  last  request  which  e'er  was  his  to  utter. 
Thy  harshness  made  him  carry  to  the  grave  ? 

/Sal.    Speak,  then  ;  but  ask  thyself  if  thou  hast  reason 
To  look  for  much  indurgence  here. 

Mai.  Ad.    I  have  not ! 
Yet  will  I  ask  for  it.    We  part  forever ; 
This  is  our  last  farewell ;  the  king  is  satisfied  ; 
The  judge  has  spoken  the  irrevocable*  sentence; 
None  sees,  none  hears,  save  that  Omniscient  Power, 
Which,  trust  me,  will  not  frown  to  look  upon 
Two  brothers  part  like  such.     When  in  the  face 
Of  forces  once  my  own,  I'm  led  to  death. 
Then  be  thine  eye  unmoistened ;  let  thy  voice 
Then  speak  my  doom  untrembling ;  then. 
Unmoved,  behold  this  stiff  and  blackened  corse. 
But  now  I  ask, —  nay,  turn  not,  Saladin, — 
I  ask  one  single  pressure  of  thy  hand. 
From  that  stern  eye  one  solitary  tear  — 
O,  torturing  recollection !  one  kind  word 
From  the  loved  tongue  which  once  breathed  nought  but 

kindness. 
Still  silent  ?     Brother,  —  friend,  beloved  companion 
Of  all  my  youthful  sports,  —  are  they  forgotten  ? 
Strike  me  with  deafness,  make  me  blind,  O  Heaven  I 
Let  me  not  see  this  unforgiving  man 
Smile  at  my  agonies,  nor  hear  that  voice 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  231 

Pronounce  my  doom,  which  would  not  say  one  word, 
One  little  word,  whose  cherished  memory 
Would  soothe  the  struggles  of  departing  life.  — 
Yet,  yet  thou  wilt  —  O,  turn  thee,  Saladin  ! 
Look  on  my  face ;  thou  canst  not  spurn  me  then  : 
Look  on  the  once-loved  face  of  Malek  Adhel 
For  the  last  time,  and  call  him  — 

Sal.    [Seizing  his  hand.]    Brother!  brother! 

Mai.  Ad.      [Breaking  away.]       NoW  Call  thy  foUoWOrS. 

Death  has  not  now 

A  single  pang  in  store.     Proceed  !    Fm  ready. 

Sal.    O,  art  thou  ready  to  forgive,  my  brother,  — 
To  pardon  him  who  found  one  single  error, 
One  little  failing,  'mid  a  splendid  throng 
Of  glorious  qualities  — 

3fal.  Ad.    O,  stay  thee,  Saladin  I 
I  did  not  ask  for  life  —  I  only  wished 
To  carry  thy  forgiveness  to  the  grave. 
No,  Emperor,  the  loss  of  Csesarea 
Cries  loudly  for  the  blood  of  Malek  Adhel. 
Thy  soldiers,  too,  demand  that  he  who  lost 
What  cost  them  many  a  weary  hour  to  gain, 
Should  expiate  his  offences  with  his  life. 
Lo,  even  now  they  crowd  to  view  my  death, 
Thy  just  impartiality.     I  go  — 
Pleased  by  my  fate  to  add  one  other  leaf 
To  thy  proud  wreath  of  glory.  [GcriBg 

Sal.   Thou  shalt  not. 

[Enter  Attendant.] 
Att.    My  lord,  the  troops  assembled  by  your  order, 
Tumultuous  throng  the  courts.     The  prince's  death 
Not  one  of  them  but  vows  he  will  not  suffer. — 
The  mutes  have  fled ;  the  very  guards  rebel ; 
Nor  think  I  in  this  city's  spacious  round, 
Can  e'er  be  found  a  hand  to  do  the  office. 


232  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

3fal.  Ad.    0,  faithful  friends !    [To  att.]    Thine  shab. 

Att.    Mine  ?  —  Never !  — 
The  other  first  shall  lop  it  from  the  body. 

/Sal.    They  teach  the  Emperor  his  duty  well. 
Pell  thera  he  thanks  them  for  it ;  tell  them,  too, 
That  ere  their  opposition  reached  our  ears, 
Saladin  had  forgiven  Malek  Adhel. 

AU.    O,  joyful  news  ! 
I  haste  to  gladden  many  a  gallant  heart, 
And  dry  the  tear  on  many  a  hardy  cheek 
Unused  to  such  a  visitor.  [Etik. 

Sal.    These  men^  the  meanest  in  society, 
The  outcasts  of  the  earth,  —  by  war,  by  nature 
Hardened,  and  rendered  callous  °,  — these,  who  claim 
No  kindred  with  thee,  who  have  never  heard 
The  accents  of  afiection  from  thy  lips,  — 

0,  these  can  cast  aside  their  vowed  allegiance', 
Throw  off  their  long  obedience,  risk  their  lives. 
To  save  thee  from  destruction.     While  I, 

1,  who  cannot,  in  all  my  memory. 

Call  back  one  danger  which  thou  hast  not  shared, 

One  day  of  grief,  one  night  of  revelry. 

Which  thy  resistless  kindness  hath  not  soothed. 

Or  thy  gay  smile  and  converse  rendered  sweeter ;  — 

I,  who  have  thrice  in  the  ensanguined**  field, 

When  death  seemed  certain,  only  uttered  —  "Brother I" 

And  seen  that  form  like  lightning  rush  between 

Saladin  and  his  foes ;  and  that  brave  breast, 

Dauntless,  exposed  to  many  a  furious  blow 

Intended  for  my  own  —  I  could  forget 

That  'twas  to  thee  I  owed  the  very  breath 

Which  sentenced  thee  to  perish !     0,  'tis  shameful  I 

Thou  canst  not  pardon  me. 

3Ial.  Ad.    By  these  tears  I  can  — 
O,  brother !  from  this  very  hour,  a  new. 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


233 


A  glorious  life  commences  —  I  am  all  thine. 
Again  the  day  of  gladness  or  of  anguish 
Shall  Malek  Adhel  share,  and  oft  again 
JVIay  this  sword  fence  thee  in  the  bloody  iBeld. 
Henceforth,  Saladin, 
My  heart,  my  soul,  my  sword,  are  thine  forever. 


1  Spe'ciovs.       Plausible}       showy; 

seemingly  good. 

2  SDb'ter-fuCjJE.    An  evasion  ;  an  ar- 

tifice ;  a  trick. 

»  D}s-s£m'bl5R.  a  hypocrite;  one 
who  conceals  his  opinions  or  dispo- 
sition under  a  false  appearance. 

4  Bow'strIng,  a  cord  used  by  the 
Turks  to  strangle  criminals. 


6  Ir-r£v'p-ca-ble.    That  which  can- 
not be  recalled. 

6  CAl'lovs.     Hard;   insensible;  un- 

feeling. 

7  Al-le'^iance.     Fidelity,  or  obedi- 

ence which  a  citizen  owes  to  his 
government. 

8  fiN-sXN'GUfNED.  Smeared  Or  Stained 

with  blood. 


LXIV.  — CITY  AND   COUNTRY. 

O.'W.  Holmes. 

[Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  M.  D.,  was  born  in  Cambridge,  In  1809,  and  was 
graduated  at  Harvard  College  in  1829.  He  is  one  of  the  most  brilliant  and 
popular  of  American  writers.  He  is  a  professor  in  the  medical  department  of 
Harvard  College,  and  distinguished  as  a  man  of  science.  The  following  poem 
was  read  by  him  at  a  festival  gathering  of  the  sons  of  Berkshire,  Mass.] 

1.  Come  back  to  your  Mother,  ye  children,  for  shame. 
Who  have  wandered  like  truants,  for  riches  and  fame! 
With  a  smile  on  her  face,  and  a  sprig  in  her  cap, 

She  calls  you  to  feast  from  her  bountiful  lap. 

2.  Come  out  from  your  alleys,  your  courts,  and  your  lanes, 
And  breathe,  like  your  eagles,  the  air  of  our  plains; 
Take  a  w^hiff  from  our  fields,  and  your  excellent  wives 
Will  declare  'tis  all  nonsense  insuring  your  lives. 

S.  Come,  you  of  the  law,  who  can  talk,  if  you  please, 
Till  the  man  in  the  moon  will  allow  it 's  a  cheese, 
And  leave  "  the  old  lady  that  never  tells  Hes," 
To  sleep  with  her  handkerchief  over  her  eyes. 

20  *  ^- 


234  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

4.  Ye  healers  of  men,  for  a  moment  decline 
Your  feats  in  the  rhubarb  and  ipecac  ^  line ; 

While  you  shut  up  your  turnpike,  your  neighbors  can  go 
The  old  round-about  road  to  the  regions  below. 

5.  You  clerk,  on  whose  ears  are  a  couple  of  pens, 
And  whose  head  is  an  ant-hill  of  units  and  tens, 
Though  Plato  *  denies  you,  we  welcome  you  still  — 
As  a  featherless  biped,  in  spite  of  your  quill. 

6.  Poor  drudge  of  the  city !  how  happy  he  feels 
With  the  burrs  on  his  legs  and  the  grass  at  his  heels ! 
No  dodger"^  behind  his  bandannas^  to  share, — 

No  constable  grumbling,  "  You  mustn't  walk  there!" 

7.  In  yonder  green  meadow,  to  memory  dear. 
He  slaps  a  mosquito,  and  bnishes  a  tear ; 

The  dewdrops  hang  around  him  on  blossoms  and  shoots, 
He  breathes  but  one  sigh  for  his  youth  and  his  boots. 

8.  There  stands  the  old  school-house,  hard  by  the  old 

church ; 
That  tree  by  its  side  had  the  flavor  of  birch ; 
O,  sweet  were  the  days  of  his  juvenile  tricks, 
Though  the  prairie  of  youth  had  so  many  "big  licks!" 

9.  By  the  side  of  yon  river  he  weeps  and  he  slumps, 
The  boots  fill  with  water,  as  if  they  were  pumps, 
Till,  sated  *  with  rapture,  he  steals  to  his  bed. 
With  a  glow  in  his  heart,  and  a  cold  in  his  head. 

10.  'Tis  past,  —  he  is  dreaming  —  I  see  him  again; 
Th«  ledger  returns  'as  by  legerdemain  ^ ; 

*  Plato.  A  celebrated  Greek  philosopher,  bom  about  430  jears  before  Christ, 
His  reported  definition  of  man,—  a  biped  without  feathers,—  is  alluded  to  here. 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


285 


His  mustache  is  damp  with  an  easterly  flaw, 
And  he  holds  in  his  fingers  an  omnibus  ^  straw. 


11.  He  dreams  the  chill  gust  is  a  blossoming  gale, 
That  the  straw  is  a  rose  from  his  dear  native  vale ; 
And  murmurs,  unconscious  of  space  and  of  time, 
"A  1 '.  —  Extra  super.  —  Ah !  isn't  it  prime  ! " 

12.  O,  what  are  the  prizes*  we  perish  to  win, 

To  the  first  little  "shiner"  we  caught  with  a  pin? 

No  soil  upon  earth  is  so  dear  to  our  eyes 

As  the  soil  we  first  stirred  in  terrestrial **  pies! 

13.  Then  come  from  all  parties,  and  parts,  to  our  feast ; 
Though  not  at  the  "  Astor,"*  we'll  give  you  at  least 
A  bite  at  an  apple,  a  seat  on  the  grass. 

And  the  best  of  old  —  water —  at  nothing  a  glass ! 


I  Ip'e-cXc.  a  contraction  of  ipecac- 
uanha, a  South  American  plant 
used  as  an  emetic. 

i  D6d<^'er.  One  guilty  of  sly,  mean 
tricks  ;  here,  a  sly  thief. 

3  BXn-dXn'na.      a   kind    of   pocket 

handkerchief. 

4  Sat'ed.     Filled  or  gratified  to  the 

extent  of  desire  ;  glutted. 
»  Lfi^-ER-DiE-MAiN'.  Sleight  of  hand  J 


the  art  of  performing  tricks  which 
depend  chiefly  on  nimbleness  of 
hand  ;  a  juggle. 

6  Om'nj  bDs,    a  large  public  carriage 

used  in  cities. 

7  A  1.    Signs  used  in  insuring  a  vessel 

to  denote  that  it  is  of  the  first 
class  ;  hence,  colloquially  applied 
to  any  thing  of  the  best  quality. 

8  Ter-r£s'tri-al.  Earthy,  or  earthly. 


LXV.  — EXTRACT  FROM   EMMET'S  SPEECH. 

Egbert  Emmet. 

[Robert  Emmet  was  bom  at  Dublin,  Ireland,  in  the  year  1780.  Even  in  his 
boyhood  he  became  prominent  as  an  advocate  of  the  independence  of  his  na- 
tive country.  After  the  failure  of  the  revolution  of  1798,  he  escaped  to  France, 
but  returned  in  1803,  and  took  an  active  part  in  an  attack  upon  the  castle  and  ar- 
senals of  Dublin.  The  effort  was  unsuccessful.  Emmet  was  arrested,  tried, 
and  convicted  of  high  treason.    The  following  extract  is  from  the  speech  deliv- 


*  A  large  hotel  in  25ew  York  city. 


236  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

ered  by  him  in  reply  to  the  question,  "  What  have  you,  therefore,  now  to  eay 
why  judgment  of  death  and  execution  should  not  be  awarded  against  you, 
according  to  law  f  " 

He  was  executed  on  the  g'allows,  September  20, 1803.  The  eloquence  and 
pathort  evinced  by  his  speecli,  as  well  as  the  courage  with  which  he  met  his 
fate,  won  general  admiration.] 

1.  My  Lords  :  What  have  I  to  say,  why  sentence  of 
death  should  not  be  pronounced  on  me,  according  to  law? 
I  have  nothhig  to  say  that  can  alter  your  predetermination, 
or  that  it  would  become  me  to- say,  with  any  view  to  the 
mitigation*  of  that  sentence  which  you  are  here  to  pro- 
nounce, and  which  I  must  abide.  But  I  have  much  to  say 
which  interests  me  more  than  that  life  which  you  have 
labored  to  destroy.  I  have  much  to  say,  why  my  reputation 
should  be  rescued  from  the  load  of  false  accusation  and 
calumny  which  has  been  heaped  upon  it. 

2.  Were  I  only  to  suffer  death,  after  being  adjudged 
guilty  by  your  tribunal^ ^  I  should  bow  in  silence  and  meet 
the  fate  that  awaits  me,  without  a  murmur.  But  the  sen- 
tence of  the  law  which  delivers  my  body  to  the  execu- 
tioner, will,  through  the  ministry  of  that  law,  labor  in  its 
own  vindication  to  consign  my  character  to  obloquy  ^,  for 
there  must  be  guilt  somewhere ;  whether  in  the  sentence 
of  the  court  or  in  the  catastrophe,  posterity  must  de- 
termine. 

3.  When  my  spirit  shall  be  wafted  to  a  more  friendly 
port;  when  my  shade  shall  have  joined  the  bands  of  those 
martyred  heroes  who  have  shed  their  blood  on  the  scaffold 
and  in  the  field,  in  defence  of  their  country  and  virtue,  — 
this  is  my  hope :  I  wish  that  my  memory  and  name  may 
animate  those  who  survive  me,  while  I  look  down  with 
complacency  on  the  destruction  of  that  perfidious  govern- 
ment, which  upholds  its  domination  by  blasphemy  of  the 
Most  High. 

4.  My  lord,  shall  a  dying  man  be  denied  the  legal  priv 
ilege  of  exculpating*  himself,  in  the  eyes  of  the  commu- 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  237 

nity,  from  an  undesei-ved  reproach  thrown  upon  him  during 
his  trial,  by  charging  him  with  ambition,  and  attempting 
to  cast  away,  for  a  paltry  consideration,  the  hberties  of  his 
country?  Why,  then,  insult  me?  or,  rather,  why  insult 
justice,  in  demanding  of  me  why  sentence  of  death  should 
not  be  pronounced  ? 

5.  I  am  charged  with  being  an  emissary*  of  France ! 
An  emissary  of  France !  And  for  what  end  ?  It  is  al- 
leged that  I  wished  to  sell  the  independence  of  my  coun- 
try! And  for  what  end?  Was  this  the  object  of  my 
ambition  ?  and  is  this  the  mode  by  which  a  tribunal  of 
justice  reconciles  contradictions?  No,  I  am  no  emissary; 
and  my  ambiiion  wns  to  hold  a  place  among  the  deliverers 
of  my  country ;  not  in  power,  nor  in  profit,  but  in  the 
glory  of  the  achievement ! 

6.  Sell  my  country's  independence  to  France !  And 
for  what  ?  Was  it  for  a  change  of  masters?  No,  but  for 
ambition !  O  my  country,  was  it  personal  ambition  that 
could  influence  me  ?  Had  it  been  the  soul  of  my  actions, 
could  I  not  by  my  education  and  fortune,  by  the  rank  and 
consideration  of  my  family,  have  placed  myself  among  the 
proudest  of  my  oppressors  ?  My  country  was  my  idol ; 
to  it  I  sacrificed  every  selfish,  every  endearing  sentiment  j 
and  for  it  I  now  offer  up  my  life. 

7.  No,  my  lord ;  I  acted  as  an  Irishman,  determined  on 
delivering  my  country  from  the  yoke  of  a  foreign  arid  un.  • 
relenting  tyranny ;  and  from  the  more  galling  yoke  of  a 
domestic  faction,  which  is  its  joint  partner  and  perpetrator 
in  the  parricide  ^,  whose  reward  is  the  ignominy  of  exist- 
ing with  an  exterior  of  splendor  and  a  consciousness  of 
depravity.  It  was  the  wish  of  my  heart  to  extricate  my 
country  from  this  doubly-riveted  despotism ;  I  wished  to 
place  her  independence  beyond  the  reach  of  any  power 
on  earth ;  I  wished  to  exalt  her  to  that  proud  station  in 
the  world. 


238  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

8.  Let  no  man  dare,  when  I  am  dead,  to  charge  me  with 
dishonor;  let  no  man  attaint'  my  memory  by  believing 
that  I  could  have  engaged  in  any  cause  but  that  of  my 
country's  liberty  and  independence  ;  or  that  I  could  have 
become  the  pliant  minion**  of  power  in  the  oppression  or 
the  miseries  of  my  countrymen. 

9.  I  would  not  have  submitted  to  a  foreign  oppressor, 
for  the  same  reason  that  I  would  resist  the  domestic  ty- 
rant: in  the  dignity  of  freedom,  I  would  have  fought  upon 
the  threshold  of  my  country,  and  her  enemy  should  enter 
only  by  passing  over  my  lifeless  corpse.  Am  I,  who  lived 
but  for  my  country,  and  who  have  subjected  myself  to  the 
vengeance  of  the  jealous  and  watchful  oppressor,  and  now 
to  the  bondage  of  the  grave,  only  to  give  my  countrymen 
their  riglits,  —  am  I  to  be  loaded  with  calumny,  and  not  to 
be  suffered  to  resent  or  repel  it  ?    No  :  God  forbid ! 

10.  If  the  spirits  of  the  illustrious  dead  participate  in 
the  concerns  and  cares  of  those  who  are  dear  to  them  in 
this  transitory  life,  O,  ever  dear  and  venerated  shade  of 
my  departed  father !  look  down  with  scrutiny  on  the  con- 
duct of  your  suffering  son,  and  see  if  I  have  even  for  a 
moment  deviated  from  those  principles  of  morality  and 
patriotism  which  it  was  your  care  to  instil  into  my  youth- 
ful mind,  and  for  an  adherence  to  which  I  am  now  to  offer 
up  my  life ! 

11.  My  lords,  you  are  impatient  for  the  sacrifice.  The 
blood  which  you  seek  is  not  congealed  by  the  artificial 
terrors  which  surround  your  victim ;  it  circulates  warmly 
and  unruffled,  through  the  channels  which  God  created 
for  noble  purposes,  but  which  you  are  bent  to  destroy  for 
purposes  so  grievous  that  they  cry  to  ITeaven !  Be  yet 
patient !  I  have  but  a  few  words  more  to  say.  I  am  going 
to  my  silent  grave ;  my  lamp  of  life  is  nearly  extinguished; 
my  race  is  run ;  the  grave  opens  to  receive  me,  and  I  sink 
into  its  bosom. 


THE  FIFTH   READER. 


239 


12.  I  have  but  one  request  to  ask,  at  ray  departure  from 
this  world ;  —  it  is  the  charity  of  its  silence.  Let  no  man 
write  my  epitaph ;  for,  as  no  one  who  knows  my  motives 
dares  now  vindicate  them,  let  not  prejudice^  or  ignorance 
asperse '"  them.  Let  them  and  me  repose  in  obscurity  and 
peace,  and  my  tomb  remain  uninscribed,  until  other  times, 
and  other  men,  can  do  justice  to  my  character.  When  my 
country  shall  take  her  place  among  the  nations  of  the 
earth,  —  then,  and  not  till  then,  —  let  my  epitajDh  be 
written ! 


1  M1t-i-6A'tion.  Abatement  of  any 
thing  painful  or  severe ;  a  render- 
ing less  severe. 

«  Tri-bO'nal.  Judgment-seat  j  court 
of  justice. 

8  OB'Lp-Quy.  Censorious  speech; 
blame;  disgrace. 

4  |;x-cOl,'pat-|n&.  Clearing  from 
guilt;  excusing. 

6  £m'js-sa-r¥.  One  sent  on  a  mis- 
sion ;  a  private  or  secret  agent. 


•  PXr'ri-cide.  The  murder  or  tho 
murderer  of  a  parent. 

7  /Lt-taint'.     Cloud    with    infamy; 

stain;  disgrace. 

8  MIn'iqn.    a  favorite  in  an  ill  sense ; 

a  low,  base  dependant. 

»  Pr£j'V-dIce.  a  leaning  in  favor  of 
one  side  of  a  cause,  for  some  rea- 
son other  than  its  justice ;  previous 
bias  or  judgment. 

10  ^s-PERSE'.    Slander;  defame. 


LXVL  — NATIONAL  HYMN. 

Kev.  S.  F.  Smith,  D.  D. 

[Rev.  Samuel  F.  Smith,  D.  D.,  is  a  native  of  Boston,  and  a  graduate  of  Har- 
vard College  of  the  class  of  1829.  He  is  a  clergyman  of  the  Baptist  denomina- 
tion, and  the  editor  of  the  publications  of  the  American  Baptist  Missionary 
Uak>n.] 

1.  My  country,  'tis  of  thecj 
Sweet  land  of  liberty, 

Of  thee  I  sing ; 
Land  where  my  fathers  died, 
Land  of  the  pilgrim's  pride, 
From  every  mountain  side 
Let  freedom  ring. 


240  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

2.  My  native  country,  thee  — 
Land  of  the  noble  free  — 

Thy  name  —  I  love ; 
I  love  thy  rocks  and  rills, 
Thy  woods  and  templed  hills; 
My  heart  with  rapture  thrills 

Like  that  above. 

3.  Let  music  swell  the  breeze, 
And  ring  from  all  the  trees 

Sweet  freedom's  song : 
Let  mortal  tongues  awake ; 
Let  all  that  breathe  partake ; 
Let  rocks  their  silence  break  — 

The  sound  prolong. 

4.  Our  fathers'  God,  to  thee, 
Autlior  of  liberty. 

To  thee  we  sing : 
Long  may  our  land  be  bright , 
With  freedom's  holy  light, 
Protect  us  by  thy  might, 

Great  God,  our  King. 


LXVIL  — LIMIT  TO  HUMAN  DOMINION. 

Swain. 

[The  following'  extract  is  a  portion  of  a  sermon  of  striking  eloquence  and 
beauty,  by  the  Rev.  Leonard  Swain,  of  Providence,  Rhode  Island,  published  in 
tlie  "  Bibhatheca  Sacra."] 

1.  Man's  dominion  is  the  solid  land.  If  the  Old  World 
speaks  of  man,  to  tell  where  he  has  been,  so  the  New 
World  seems  to  speak  of  him,  and  to  tell  where  he  shall 
be.    In  the  forests  of  the  Mississippi,  a  thousand  miles 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  241 

beyond  the  outmost  cities,  the  sound  of  the  axe  and  the 
gun  declares  that  the  all-conquering  wave  of  civilization  is 
coming;  and  a  thousand  miles  farther  on,  where  even 
these  prophetic  sounds  have  not  been  heard,  there  is  that 
which  speaks  of  human  approach. 

2.  The  stillness  which  is  there  is  the  stillness  of  fear 
and  not  of  security.  It  tells  that  man  is  coming.  The 
very  silence  is  full  of  his  name.  The  trees  whisper  it  to 
one  another.  The  fox  and  the  panther  utter  it  in  their 
cry.  The  winds  take  up  the  secret,  and  give  it  to  the 
hills,  and  these  to  the  echoing  vales.  The  fountains  pub- 
lish it  to  the  brooks,  and  the  brooks  to  the  rivers,  and  the 
rivers  spread  it  a  thousand  miles  along  their*  banks,  and 
proclaim  it  at  last  to  the  northern  seas  —  that  man,  the 
conqueror  and  king,  is  coming;  that  his  footstep  has 
been  heard  on  the  Atlantic  shore;  that  the  hills  await 
him;  that  the  vales  expect  him;  that  the  forests  bend 
their  tremulous  tops  to  listen  for  him ;  that  the  fear  of 
him  is  upon  the  beasts  of  the  wood,  the  fowl  of  the  moun- 
tain, the  cattle  of  a  thousand  hills ;  upon  all  rivers  and 
plains,  upon  all  quarries  of  rock  and  mines  of  precious 
ore';  for  all  that  is  within  the  compass  of  land  is  given  to 
his  dominion,  and  he  shall  subdue  its  strength  and  appro- 
priate its  treasures,  and  scatter  the  refuse  of  it  as  the  dust 
beneath  his  feet. 

3.  There  man's  empire  stops.  God  has  given  the  land 
to  man,  but  the  sea  he  has  reserved  to  himself.  "  The 
sea  is  his,  and  he  made  it."  He  has  given  man  "no 
inheritance  in  it ;  no,  not  so  much  as  to  set  his  foot  on." 
If  he  enters  its  domain,  he  enters  it  as  a  pilgrim  and  a 
stranger.  He  may  pass  over  it,  but  he  can  liave  no  abid- 
ing place  upon  it.  He  cannot  build  his  house,  nor  so  much 
as  pitch  his  tent,  within  it.  He  cannot  mark  it  with  his 
lines,  nor  subdue  it  to  his  uses,  nor  rear  his  monuments 
upon  it.     It  steadfastly  refuses  to  own  him  as  its  lord  and 

21 


242  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

master.  Its  depths  do  not  tremble  at  his  coming.  Its 
waters  do  not  flee  when  he  appeareth.  All  the  strength 
of  all  his  generations  is  to  it  as  a  feather  before  the  whirl- 
wind ;  and  all  the  noise  of  his  commerce,  and  all  the  thun- 
der of  his  navies,  it  can  hush  in  a  moment  within  the 
silence  of  its  impenetrable  abysses. 

4.  Whole  armies  have  gone  down  into  that  unfathom- 
able darkness,  and  not  a  floating  bubble  marks  the  place 
of  their  disappearing.  If  all  the  populations  of  the  world, 
from  the  beginning  of  time,  were  cast  into  its  depths,  the 
smooth  surface  of  its  oblivion*  would  close  over  them  in 
an  hour;  and  if  all  the  cities  of  the  earth,  and  all  the  struc- 
tures and  monuments  ever  reared  by  man,  were  heaped 
together  over  that  grave  for  a  tombstone,  it  would  not 
break  the  surface  of  the  deep,  or  lift  back  their  memory 
to  the  light  of  the  sun  and  the  breath  of  the  upper  air. 
The  sea  would  roll  its  billows  in  derision,  a  thousand  fath- 
oms deep,  above  the  topmost  stone  of  that  mighty  sepulchre. 

5.  The  patient  earth  submits  to  the  rule  of  man,  and 
the  mountains  bow  their  rocky  heads  before  the  hammer  of 
his  power  and  the  blast  of  his  terrible  enginery.  The  sea 
cares  not  for  him ;  not  so  much  as  a  single  hair's  breadth 
can  its  level  be  lowered  or  lifted  by  all  the  art,  and  all  the 
eflbrt,  and  all  the  enginery  of  all  the  generations  of  time. 
He  comes  and  goes  upon  it,  and  a  moment  after  it  is  as  if 
he  had  never  been  there.  He  may  engrave  his  titles 
upon  the  mountain  top,  and  quarry  his  signature  into  the 
foundations  of  the  globe,  but  he  cannot  write  his  name  on 
the  sea. 

6.  And  thus,  by  its  material  uses  and  its  spiritual  voices, 
does  the  sea  ever  speak  to  us,  to  tell  us  that  its  builder  and 
maker  is  God.  He  hewed  its  channels  in  the  deep,  and 
drew  its  barriers  upon  the  sand,  and  cast  its  belted'  waters 
around  the  world.  He  fitted  it  to  the  earth  and  the  sky, 
and   poised"   them  skilfully,  the  one   against   the   other, 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  248 

when  he  "  measured  the  waters  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand, 
and  meted  out  heaven  with  the  span,  and  comprehended 
the  dust  of  the  earth  in  a  measure,  and  weighed  the  moun- 
tains in  scales,  and  the  hills  in  a  balance."  He  gave  the 
sea  its  wonderful  laws,  and  armed  it  with  its  wonderful 
powers,  and  set  it  upon  its  wonderful  work. 

"  O'er  all  its  breadth  his  wisdom  walks,  , 

On  all  its  waves  his  goodness  shines. " 

7.  Let  us  give  thanks,  therefore,  for  the  sea.  Let  us 
remember  him  that  gave  it  such  vast  dominion,  and  made 
it  to  be  not  only  the  dwelling-place  of  his  awful  presence, 
but  the  beautiful  garment  of  his  love  and  the  mighty- 
instrument  of  his  goodness.  Let  it  speak  to  us  of  his 
unfathomable  fulness.  Let  it  teach  us  that  he  has  made 
nothing  in  vain.  Let  it  remind  us  that  the  powers  of 
destruction  and  death  are  under  his  control,  and  that  be- 
hind the  cloud  of  darkness  and  terror  that  often  invests 
them,  they  are  working  out  immeasurable  results  of  bless- 
ing and  life  for  the  future  time,  for  distant  regions,  and  ibr 
coming  generations.  Let  it  lead  us  to  confide  in  Him  who 
"  ruleth  the  raging  of  the  seas,  who  stilleth  the  noise  of 
their  waves,  and  the  tumult  of  the  people ; "  who  has  all 
the  forces  of  the  world  at  his  control,  and  all  the  ages  of 
time  at  his  command ;  who  knows  how  to  build  his  king- 
dom beneath  the  sea  of  human  opposition,  as  he  built  the 
continents  beneath  the  ocean  waters ;  who  makes  all  the 
powers  of  dislocation*  and  decay  yield  to  that  kingdom 
some  element  of  strength  or  richness;  and  who,  when  the 
appointed  hour  shall  come,  will  lift  it  irresistibly  above  the 
waves,  and  set  its  finished  beauty  beneath  the  heavens 
with  the  spoils  of  all  time  gathered  upon  its  walls. 


1  ORE.  A-  mineral  body  which  is 
changed  to  the  metallic  state  by  the 
action  of  fire, 

«  Ob-i.iv'1-on,  Forgetfulness  ;  cessa- 
tion of  remembrance. 


3  B£lt'?d.    Clasped  round  like  a  belt; 

also,  encircled  by  a  belt. 
*  Pi5i§E.    Balance  J  weigh. 
6  DIs'lo-cA'tion.      Derangement   of 

position  5  displacement. 


244  THE   FIFTH  READER. 

LXYIIL  — A  MOSQUITO  HUNT. 

Basil  Hall. 

[Basil  Hall  was  bom  in  Edinburgh,  in  1788,  and  died  in  1844.  He  was  a  post- 
captain  in  the  British  navy  at  the  time  of  his  death.  He  was  a  vigorous  and 
entertaining  writer,  especially  on  subjects  connected  with  his  own  profession- 
The  following  extract  is  from  the  third  series  of  his  Fragments  of  Voyages 
and  Travels.] 

1.  In  the  sleeping  apartments  of  India,  great  care  is 
taken  to  secure  coolness.  The  beds,  which  are  always 
large  and  hard,  are  generally  placed  as  nearly  as  may  be  in 
the  very  middle  of  the  apartment,  in  the  line  of  the  freest 
thorough  draught  which  open  doors  and  windows  can 
command.  Round  each  bed  is  suspended  a  gauze '  curtain, 
without  which  sleep  would  be  as  effectually  murdered  as 
ever  it  was  by  any  tragedy  king.  For,  if  even  one  mos- 
quito contrives  to  gain  admission  into  your  fortress  ^  you 
may,  for  that  night,  bid  good-by  not  only  to  sleep,  but  to 
temper,  and  almost  to  health.  I  defy  the  most  resolute, 
the  most  serene,  or  the  most  robust  person  that  ever  lived 
between  the  tropics,  to  pass  the  whole  night  in  bed,  within 
the  curtains  of  which  a  single  invader  has  entered,  and 
not  to  be  found,  when  the  morning  comes,  in  a  high  fever, 
with  every  atom  of  his  patience  exhausted. 

2.  The  process  of  getting  into  bed,  in  India,  is  one 
requiring  great  dexterity,  and  not  a  little  scientific  engi- 
neering. As  the  curtains  are  carefully  tucked  in  close 
under  the  mattress,  all  round,  you  must  decide  at  once 
at  what  part  of  the  bed  you  choose  to  make  your  entry. 
Having  surveyed  the  ground,  and  clearly  made  up  your 
mind  on  this  point,  you  take  in  your  right  hj;ind  a  kind  of 
brush,  or  switch,  made  of  a  horse's  tail ;  or,  if  you  be  tol- 
erably expert,  a  towel  may  answer  the  purpose.  With 
your  left  hand  you  then  seize  that  part  of  the  skirt  of  the 
curtain  which  is  thrust  under  the  bedding  at  the  place  you 


I 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  245 

intend  to  enter,  and  by  the  light  of  the  cocoa-nut  oil  lamp 
you  must  drive  away  the  mosquitoes  from  your  immediate 
neighborhood  by  whisking  round  your  horse-tail  switch; 
and,  before  proceeding  farther,  you  must  be  sure  you  haYG 
effectually  driven  the  enemy  back. 

3.  If  you  fail  in  this  matter,  your  repose  is  effectually 
dashed  for  that  night ;  for  these  provoking  animals  appear 
to  know  perfectly  well  what  is  going  to  happen,  and 
assemble  with  the  vigor  and  bravery  of  the  flank  compa- 
nies^ appointed  to  head  a  storming  party,  ready  in  one 
instant  to  rush  into  the  breach,  careless  alike  of  horses'  tails 
and  towels.  Let  it  be  supposed,  however,  that  you  have 
Successfully  beaten  back  the  enemy.  You  next  promptly 
form  an  opening,  not  a  hair's  breadth  larger  than  your 
own  person,  into  which  you  leap,  like  harlequin  through 
a  hoop,  closing  up,  with  all  the  speed  of  fear,  the  gap 
through  which  you  have  shot  yourself  into  your  sleeping 
quarters. 

4.  If  all  these  arrangements  have  been  well  managed, 
you  may  amuse  yourself  for  a  w^hile  by  scoffing  at  and 
triumphing  over  the  clouds  of  baffled  mosquitoes  outside, 
who  dash  themselves  against  the  meshes  of  the  net,  in 
vain  attempts  to  enter  your  sanctum.  If,  however,  for 
your  sins,  any  one  of  their  number  has  succeeded  in  enter- 
ing the  place  along  with  yourself,  he  is  not  so  silly  as  to 
betray  his  presence  while  you  are  flushed  with  victory, 
wide  awake,  and  armed  with  the  means  of  his  destruction. 
Far  from  this,  he  allows  you  to  chuckle  over  your  fancied 
great  doings,  and  to  lie  down  with  all  the  complacency  and 
fallacious  security  of  your  conquest,  and  under  the  entire 
assurance  of  enjoying  a  tranquil  night's  rest.  Alas,  for 
such  presumptuous  hopes!  Scarcely  have  you  dropped 
gradually  from  these  visions  of  the  day  to  the  yet  more 
blessed  visions  of  the  night,  and  the  last  faint  effort  of 
your  eyelids  has  been  overcome  by  the  gentle  pressure  of 

21* 


246  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

Bleep,  when,  in  deceitful  slumber,  you  hear  something  like 
the  sound  of  trumpets. 

5.  Straightway  your  imagination  is  kindled,  and  you 
fancy  yourself  in  the  midst  of  a  fierce  fight,  and  strug- 
gling, not  against  petty  insects,  but  against  armed  men  and 
thundering  cannon.  In  the  excitement  of  the  mortal  con- 
flict of  your  dream,  you  awake,  not  displeased,  mayhap,  to 
find  that  you  are  safe  and  snug  in  bed.  But  in  the  next 
instant  what  is  your  dismay,  when  you  are  again  saluted 
by  the  odious  notes  of  a  mosquito  close  to  your  ear !  The 
perilous  fight  of  the  previous  dream,  in  which  your  honor 
had  become  pledged,  and  your  life  at  hazard,  is  all  forgotten 
in  the  pressing  reality  of  this  waking  calamity.  You 
resolve  to  do  or  die,  and  not  to  sleep,  or  even  attempt  to 
sleep,  till  you  have  finally  overcome  the  enemy. 

6.  Just  as  you  have  made  this  manly  resolve,  and  in  order 
to  deceive  the  foe,  have  pretended  to  be  fast  asleep,  the  wary 
mosquito  is  again  heard,  circling  over  you  at  a  distance, 
but  gradually  coming  nearer  and  nearer  in  a  spiral''  descent, 
and  at  each  turn  gaining  upon  you  one  inch,  till  at  length 
he  almost  touches  your  ear,  and,  as  you  suppose,  is  about 
to  settle  upon  it.  With  a  sudden  jerk,  and  full  of  wrath, 
you  bring  up  your  hand,  and  give  yourself  such  a  box  on 
the  ear  as  would  have  staggered  the  best  friend  you  have 
in  the  world,  and  might  have  crushed  twenty  thousand 
mosquitoes,  had  they  been  there  congregated.  Being 
convinced  that  you  have  now  done  for  him,  you  lie  down 
again. 

7.  In  less  than  ten  seconds,  however,  the  very  same 
felon*,  whom  you  fondly  hoped  you  had  executed,  is 
again  within  hail  of  you,  and  you  can  almost  fancy  there 
is  scorn  in  the  tone  of  his  abominable  hum.  You, 
of  course,  watch  his  motions  still  more  intently  than 
before,  but  only  by  the  ear,  for  you  can  never  see  him. 
We  will  suppose  that  you  fancy  he  is  aiming  at  your  left 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


247 


hand  ;  indeed,  as  you  are  almost  sure  of  it,  you  wait  till  he 
has  ceased  his  song,  and  then  you  give  yourself  another 
smack,  which,  I  need  not  say,  proves  quite  as  fruitless  as 
the  first. 

8.  About  this  stage  of  the  action  you  discover,  to  your 
horror,  that  you  have  been  soundly  bitten  in  one  ear  and 
in  both  heels,  but  when  or  how  you  cannot  tell.  These 
wounds,  of  course,  put  you  into  a  fine  rage,  partly  from 
the  pain,  and  partly  from  the  insidious^  manner  in  which 
they  have  been  inflicted.  Up  you  spring  on  your  knees  — 
not  to  pray.  Heaven  knows!  —  but  to  fight.  You  seize 
your  horse's  tail  with  spiteful  rage,  and  after  whisking  it 
round  and  round,  and  cracking  it  in  every  corner  of  the 
bed,  you  feel  pretty  certain  you  must  at  last  have  demol- 
ished your  friend. 

9.  In  this  unequal  warfare  you  pass  the  livelong  night, 
alternately  scratching  and  cuffing  yourself,  fretting  and 
fuming  to  no  purpose,  feverish,  angry,  sleepy,  provoked, 
and  wounded  in  twenty  different  places.  At  last,  just  as 
the  long-expected  day  begins  to  dawn,  you  drop  ofi^,  quite 
exhausted,  into  an  unsatisfactory,  heavy  slumber,  during 
which  your  triumphant  enemy  banquets  upon  your  carcass 
at  his  convenient  leisure.  As  the  sun  is  rising,  you  awaken 
only  to  discover  the  bloated  and  satiated  monster  clinging 
to  the  top  of  your  bed  —  an  easy,  but  useless  and  inglo- 
rious prey. 


1  Gauze.  A  thin,  transparent  stuff  of 
silk  or  linen. 

a  FoR'TRESS.  A  stronghold  ;  a  forti- 
fied place. 

8FlXnkc6m'pa-nie§.  The  companies 
which  are  on  the  extreme  right  and 


loft  when  the  regiment  is  drawn  up 
in  line.    One  of  them  usually  heada 
a  storming  party. 
*  SPi'RAt..    Winding  or  circular. 

5  FfiL'QN.    A  criminal ;  a  culprit. 

6  Jn-sId'j-oOs.    Deceitful}  sly 


248  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

LXIX.  — NEW  ENGLAND. 

Percival. 

1.  Hail  to  the  land  whereon  we  tread, 

Our  fondest  boast ! 
The  sepulchre'  of  mighty  dead, 
The  truest  hearts  that  ever  bled, 
Who  sleep  on  glory's  brightest  bed, 

A  fearless  host ! 
No  slave  is  here ;  our  unchained  feet 
Walk  freely  as  the  waves  that  beat 

Our  coast. 

2.  Our  fuhers  crossed  the  ocean's  wave 

To  seek  this  shore ; 
They  left  behind  the  coward  slave 
To  welter'^  in  his  living  grave  : 
With  hearts  unbent,  and  spirits  brave, 

They  sternly  bore 
Such  toils  as  meaner  souls  had  quelled^; 
But  souls  like  these  such  toils  impelled 

To  soar. 

3.  Hail  to  the  morn  when  first  they  stood 

On  Bunker's  height, 
And,  fearless,  stemmed  the  invading  flood. 
And  wrote  our  dearest  rights  in  blood. 
And  mowed  in  ranks  the  hireling  *  brood, 

In  desperate  fight ! 
O,  'twas  a  proud,  exulting  day. 
For  even  our  fallen  fortunes  lay 

In  light. 

4.  There  is  no  other  land  like  thee, 

No  dearer  shore ; 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  249 

Thou  art  the  shelter  of  the  free ; 
The  home,  the  port  of  liberty, 
Thou  hast  been  and  shalt  ever  be. 

Till  time  is  o'er. 
Ere  I  forget  to  think  upon 
My  land,  shall  mother  curse  the  son 

She  bore. 

5.  Thou  art  the  firm,  unshaken  rock, 

On  which  we  rest ; 
And,  rising  from  thy  hardy  stock. 
Thy  sons  the  tyrant's  frown  shall  mock, 
And  slavery's  galling  chains  unlock, 

And  free  the  oppressed ; 
All  who  the  wreath  of  freedom  twine, 
Beneath  the  shadow  of  their  vine 

Are  blessed. 

6.  "We  love  thy  rude  and  rocky  shore, 

And  here  we  stand  — 
Let  foreign  navies  hasten  o'er 
And  on  our  heads  their  fury  pour, 
And  peal  their  cannon's  loudest  roar, 

And  storm  our  land  ; 
They  still  shall  find  our  lives  are  given 
To  die  for  home ;  and  leant  on  Heaven 

Our  hand. 


I  Sfip'vi'-je'HRE  (-ker).  A  burial-place.  I  s  aufiLLED.    Subdued;  tamed. 
I  W£l'ter.    Roll  in,  or  as  in  water  or    *  IIire'lin&.     Serving  for  hirej 
blood ;  wallow.  |        cenary. 


250  THE   FIFTH  READER. 

LXX.  — A  MODEST  WIT. 


Haughty,  being  great  —  purse-proud,  being  rich  — 
A  governor,  or  general,  at  the  least, 

I  have  forgotten  wliich  — 
Had  in  his  family  a  humble  youth. 

Who  went  from  England  in  his  patron's  suite*, 
An  uiiassuming  boy,  and  in  truth 

A  lad  of  decent  parts,  and  good  repute. 

2.  This  youth  had  sense  and  spirit; 

But  yet,  with  all  his  sense, 
Excessive  diffidence 
Obscured  his  merit. 

3.  One  day,  at  table,  flushed  with  pride  and  wine, 

His  honor,  proudly  free,  severely  merry, 
Conceived  it  would  be  vastly  fine 
To  crack  a  joke  upon  his  secretary. 

4.  "Young  man,"  he  said,  "by  what  ai*t,  craft,  or  trade 

Did  your  good  father  gain  a  livelihood  ?  "  — 
"  He  was  a  saddler  sir,"  Modestus  said, 
«  And  in  his  time  was  reckoned  good." 

5.  "A  saddler,  eh  ?  and  taught  you  Greek, 

Instead  of  teaching  you  to  sew ! 
Pray,  why  did  not  your  father  make 
A  saddler,  sir,  of  you  ?  " 

6.  Each  parasite*  then,  as  in  duty  bound, 

The  joke  applauded,  and  the  laugb  went  round 
At  length  Modestus,  bowing  low. 


THE  FIFTH  READER. 


251 


Said  (craving  pardon,  if  too  free  he  made), 

"  Sir,  by  your  leave,  I  fain  would  know 
Your  father's  trade." 

"  My  father's  trade  !  Come,  come,  sir !  that's  too  bad 
My  fother's  trade !    Why,  blockhead,  are  you  mad  ? 
My  father,  sir,  did  never  stoop  so  low  — 
He  was  a  gentleman,  I'd  have  you  know." 

"Excuse  the  liberty  I  take," 

Modestus  said,  with  archness  on  his  brow,  — 
"  Pray,  why  did  not  your  father  make 

A  gentleman  of  you  ?  " 


I  Si7-PER-clL'i-oOs,(or  su-per-cil'ious). 
Lofty  with  pride  ;  haughty  5  dicta- 
torial. 

8  Na'b6b.  a  prince  or  governor  in  the 
East  Indies  ;  a  very  rich  man. 

8  Suite  (swet,  here  sut).    A  company 


of  followers  or  attendants ;  a  reti- 
nue. 
4  PAR' A -SITE.  One  who  frequents  the 
tables  of  the  rich  or  the  great,  and 
earns  his  welcome  by  flattery ;  a 
sycophant. 


LXXL  — ENCOUNTER  BETWEEN  AN  EAGLE  AND 
A  SALMON. 

Life  in  the  Woods. 

1.  I  HAVE  often  been  struck  with  the  singular  attach- 
ment hunters  sometimes  have  for  some  bird  or  animal, 
while  all  the  rest  of  the  species  they  pursue  with  deadly 
hostility ^  About  five  hundred  yards  from  Beach's  hut 
stands  a  lofty  pine  tree,  on  which  a  gray  eagle  has  built  its 
nest  annually  during  the  nine  years  he  has  lived  on  the 
shores  of  the  Kaquette.*  The  Indian  who  dwelt  there 
before  him  says  that  the  same  pair  of  birds  made  their  nest 

♦  A  small  lake  in  northern  New  York. 


252  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

on  that  tree  for  ten  years  previous  ;  making  in  all  nineteen 
years  they  have  occupied  the  same  spot,  and  built  on  the 
same  branch. 

2.  One  day,  however.  Beach  was  near  losing  his  bold 
eagle.  He  was  lying  at  anchor,  fishing,  when  he  saw  his 
favorite  bird,  high  up  in  heaven,  slowly  sweeping  round 
and  round  in  a  huge  circle,  evidently  awaiting  the  approach 
of  a  fish  to  the  surface.  For  an  hour  or  more,  he  thus 
sailed  with  motionless  wings  above  the  water,  when  all  at 
once  he  stopped  and  hovered  a  moment  with  an  excited 
gesture,  then,  rapid  as  a  flash  of  lightning,  and  with  a  rush 
of  his  broad  pinions ^  like  the  passage  of  a  sudden  gust  of 
wind,  came  to  the  still  bosom  of  the  lake. 

3.  He  had  seen  a  huge  salmon  trout  swimming  near  the 
surface;  and  plunging  from  his  high  watchtower^,  drove 
Ms  talons*  deep  in  his  victim's  back.  So  rapid  and  strong 
was  his  swoop',  that  he  buried  himself  out  of  sight  when 
he  struck ;  but  the  next  moment  he  emerged  into  view, 
and,  flapping  his  wings,  endeavored  to  rise  with  his  prey. 

4.  But  this  time  he  had  miscalculated  his  strength  ;  in 
vain  he  struggled  nobly  to  lift  the  salmon  from  the  water. 
The  frightened  and  bleeding  fish  made  a  sudden  dive,  and 
took  eagle  and  all  out  of  sight,  and  was  gone  a  quarter  of 
a  minute.  Again  they  rose  to  the  surface,  and  the  strong 
bird  spread  out  his  broad  dripping  pinions,  and,  gathering 
force  with  his  rapid  blows,  raised  the  salmon  half  out  of 
water.  The  weight,  however,  was  too  great  for  him,  and 
he  sank  again  to  the  surface,  beating  the  water  into  foam 
about  him.  The  salmon  then  made  another  dive,  and  they 
both  went  under,  leaving  only  a  few  bubbles  to  tell  where 
they  had  gone  down. 

5.  This  time  they  were  absent  a  full  half  minute,  and 
Beach  said  he  thought  it  was  all  over  with  his  bird.  Ha 
soon,  however,  reappeared,  with  his  talons  still  buried  in 
the  flesh  of  his  foe,  and  again  made  a  desperate  effort  to 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  253 

rise.  All  this  time  the  fish  was  shooting  like  an  arrow 
through  the  lake,  carrying  his  relentless  ^  foe  on  his  back. 
He  could  not  keep  the  eagle  down,  nor  the  bird  carry  hira 
up  ;  and  so,  now  beneath,  and  now  upon  the  surface,  they 
struggled  on,  presenting  one  of  the  most  singular  yet 
exciting  spectacles  that  can  be  imagined.  It  wa&  fearful  to 
witness  the  blows  of  the  eagle,  as  he  lashed  the  lake  with 
his  wings  into  spray,  and  made  the  shores  echo  with  the 
report. 

6.  At  last  the  bird  thinking,  as  they  say  in  the  West, 
that  he  had  "  waked  the  wrong  passenger,"  gave  it  up,  and 
loosening  his  clutch,  soared  heavily  and  slowly  away  to  his 
lofty  pine  tree,  where  he  sat  for  a  long  time  sullen  and  sulky, 
the  picture  of  disappointed  ambition.  So  might  a  wounded 
and  baffled  lion  lie  down  in  his  lair  and  brood  over  his 
defeat.  Beach  said  that  he  could  easily  have  captured 
them,  but  he  thought  he  would  see  the  fight  out. 

7.  When,  however,  they  both  staid  under  half  a  minute 
or  more,  he  concluded  he  should  never  see  his  eagle  again. 
Whether  the  latter  in  his  rage  was  bent  on  capturing  his 
prize,  and  would  retain  his  hold,  though  at  the  hazard  of 
his  life,  or  whether  in  his  terrible  swoop  he  had  stuck  his 
crooked  talons  so  deep  in  the  back  of  the  salmon  that  he 
could  not  extricate^  himself,  the  hunter  said  he  could  not 
tell.  The  latter,  however,  was  doubtless  the  truth,  and  he 
would  have  been  glad  to  have  let  go  long  before  he  did. 


1  HQS-Tli.'j-Ty.    Enmity;  hatred. 

a  PlN'lON§  (-yun?).  Joints  of  the  wing 

furthest  from  the  body  ;  wings, 
f  Watcii'to^-er  (w6ch  ).    A  tower 

or  high  point  for  watching. 

22 


*  TXl'on§.  The  claws  of  birds  of  prey. 
6  Swoop.      A  sudden,  sweeping   de 
scent. 

6  Re-lEnt'less.     Pitiless  ;  cruel. 

7  fix'TRj-cATE.    Disembarrass;  free. 


254  THE  FIFTH  BEADEB. 

LXXIL  — THE  MOCKING  BIRD. 

ALEXANDER  WiLSON. 

Alexander  Wilson  was  bom  In  Paisley,  Scotland,  in  1766,  removed  to  this 
country  in  1794,  and  died  in  1813.  The  first  volume  of  his  American  Ornithol- 
ogy was  published  in  September,  1808.  To  collect  the  materials  lor  this  work 
he  made  extensive  tours  through  all  parts  of  the  country,  which  were  attended 
with  severe  toil  and  frequent  exposure.  It  was  much  and  deservedly  admired 
for  the  brilliant  execution  of  the  plates  and  the  admirable  letter-press  descrip- 
tions. Six  additional  volumes  were  published  before  Wilson's  death,  and  two 
more  volumes  were  completed  and  published  by  his  friend,  Mr.  George  Ord,  in 
1814.] 

1.  The  plumage  of  the  mocking  bird,  though  none  of 
the  homeliest,  has  nothing  gaudy  or  brilliant  in  it,  and  had 
he  nothing  else  to  recommend  him,  would  scarcely  entitle 
him  to  notice ;  but  his  figure  is  well  proportioned,  and 
even  handsome.  The  ease,  elegance,  and  rapidity  of  his 
movements,  the  animation  of  his  eye,  and  the  intelligence 
he  displays  in  listening,  and  laying  up  lessons  from  almost 
every  species  of  the  feathered  creation  within  his  hearing, 
are  really  surprising,  and  mark  the  peculiarity  of  his  genius. 
To  these  qualities  we  may  add  that  of  a  voice  full,  strong, 
and  musical,  and  capable  of  almost  every  modulation,  from 
the  clear,  mellow  tones  of  the  wood  thrush  to  the  savage 
screams  of  the  bald  eagle. 

2.  In  measure  and  accent  he  faithfully  follows  his  origi- 
nals. In  force  and  sweetness  of  expression  he  greatly 
improves  upon  them.  In  his  native  groves,  mounted  upon 
the  top  of  a  tall  bush  or  half-grown  tree,  in  the  dawn  of 
dewy  morning,  while  the  woods  are  already  vocal  with  a 
multitude  of  warblers,  his  admirable  song  rises  preeminent 
over  every  competitor.  The  ear  can  listen  to  his  music 
alone,  to  which  that  of  all  the  others  seems  a  mere  accom- 
paniment.   Neither  is  this  strain  altogether  imitative. 

3.  His  own  native  notes,  which  are  easily  distinguishablo 
by  such  as  are  well  acquainted  with  those  of  our  various 
birds  of  song,  are  bold  and  full,  and  varied,  seemingly. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  255 

beyond  all  limits.  They  consist  of  short  expressions  of 
two,  three,  or,  at  the  most,  five  or  six  syllables,  generally 
interspersed^  with  imitations,  and  all  of  them  uttered  with 
gi-eat  emphasis  and  rapidity,  and  continued,  with  undi- 
minished ardor,  for  half  an  hour  or  an  hour  at  a  time ;  his 
expanded  wings  and  tail  glistening  with  white,  and  the 
buoyant  gayety  of  his  action  arresting  the  eye,  as  his  song 
most  irresistibly  does  the  ear. 

4.  He  sweeps  round  with  enthusiastic  ecstasy';  he 
mounts  and  descends,  as  his  song  swells  or  dies  away ; 
and,  as  my  friend  Mr.  Bartrara  has  beautifully  expressed 
it,  "he  bounds  aloft  with  the  celerity^  of  an  arrow,  as  if 
to  recover  or  recall  his  very  soul,  which  expired  in  the  last 
elevated  strain."  While  thus  exerting  himself,  a  bystander, 
destitute  of  sight,  w^ould  suppose  that  the  whole  feathered 
tribes  had  assembled  together  on  a  trial  of  skill,  each 
striving  to  produce  its  utmost  effect  —  so  perfect  are  his 
imitations. 

5.  He  very  often  deceives  the  sportsman,  and  sends 
him  in  search  of  birds  that  perhaps  are  not  within  miles 
of  him,  but  whose  notes  he  exactly  imitates.  Even  birds 
themselves  are  frequently  imposed  on  by  this  admirable 
mimic,  and  are  decoyed  by  the  fancied  calls  of  their  mates, 
or  dive,  with  precipitation'*,  into  the  depths  of  thickets,  at 
the  scream  of  what  they  suppose  to  be  the  sparrow  hawk. 

6.  The  mocking  bird  loses  little  of  the  power  and  en- 
ergy of  his  song  by  confinement.  In  his  domesticated 
state,  when  he  commences  his  career  of  song,  it  is  impos- 
sible to  stand  by  uninterested.  He  whistles  for  the  dog ; 
Caesar  starts  up,  wags  his  tail,  and  runs  to  meet  his  mas- 
ter. He  squeaks  out  like  a  hurt  chicken;  and  the- hen 
hurries  about,  with  hanging  wings  and  bristled  feathers, 
clucking  to  protect  her  injured  brood.  The  barking  of  the 
dog,  the  mewing  of  the  cat,  the  creaking  of  a  passing 
wheelbarrow,  follow  with  great  truth  and  rapidity. 


256 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


7.  He  repeats  the  tune  taught  him  by  his  master,  though 
of  considerable  length,  fully  and  faithfully.  He  runs  over 
the  quiverings  of  the  canary,  and  the  clear  whistlings  of 
the  Virginia  nightingale  or  redbird,  with  such  superior 
execution  and  effect,  that  the  mortified  songsters  feel  their 
own  inferiority,  and  become  altogether  silent,  while  he 
seems  to  triumph  in  their  defeat  by  redoubling  his  exertions. 

8.  This  excessive  fondness  for  variety,  however,  in  the 
opinion  of  some,  injures  his  song.  His  elevated  imita- 
tions of  the  brown  thrush  are  frequently  interrupted  by 
the  crowing  of  cocks ;  and  the  warblings  of  the  bluebird, 
which  he  exquisitely"  manages,  are  mingled  with  the 
screaming  of  swallows,  or  the  cackling  of  hens ;  amidst 
the  simple  melody  of  the  robin,  we  are  suddenly  surprised 
by  the  shrill  reiterations®  of  the  whip-poor-will;  while  the 
notes  of  the  killdeer,  bluejay,  martin,  baltimore,  and  twenty 
others,  succeed,  with  such  imposing  reality,  that  we  look 
round  for  the  originals,  and  discover,  with  astonishment, 
that  the  sole  performer,  in  this  singular  concert,  is  the 
admirable  bird  now  before  us. 

9.  During  this  exhibition  of  his  powers,  he  spreads  his 
wings,  expands  his  tail,  and  throws  himself  around  the 
cage  in  all  the  ecstasy  of  enthusiasm,  seeming  not  only  to 
sing,  but  to  dance,  keeping  time  to  the  measure  of  his  own 
music.  Both  in  his  native  and  domesticated  state,  during 
the  solemn  stillness  of  the  night,  as  soon  as  the  moon  rises 
in  silent  majesty,  he  begins  his  delightful  solo',  and  sere- 
nades us  the  livelong  night  with  a  full  display  of  his  vocal 
powers,  making  the  whole  neighborhood  ring  with  his 
inimitable  melody. 


I  ijr-TER-spgRSED'.      Having    some. 

thing'  else  scattered  in  between ; 

scattered  here  and  there,  so  as  to 

diversify ;  intermingk-d. 
*  fic'sTA-sy.    Overpowering  emotion  ; 

excessive  joy ;  rapture. 
»  C?-l£r'i-tv.    Swirtness. 


*  Pre-cTp  I  tX'tion.      Rapid  motion 
downwards  :  headlong  haste 

5  Cx'QU}-s'iTE-Ly.    Most  excellently. 

6  Re-it-er  a'tiqn.      a  doing  again 

and  again ;  repetition. 
1  S5'LO.     A  tune  or  air  for  a  single 
voice  or  instrument. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  257 

LXXIIL  — THE  INQUIRYo 
1. 

Tell  me.  ye  winged  ^-inds,  that  round  my  pathway  roar 
Bo  ye  not  know  some  spot  where  mortalswlp  n7m7Il 
Some  lone  and  pleasant  dell,  some  valley  in  the  west 

Tho  r  f "  T'  ^"'  ^^^^'  *^^  --y  --1  -y  rest  ? 
Iho  loud  wmd  dwindled  to  a  whisper  low. 

And  sighed  for  pity,  as  it  answered  —  '.No," 

2, 
Tell  me  thou  mighty  deep,  whose  billows  round  me  nlav 
Wst  thou  some  favored  spot,  some  island  far  ^1^ 
Where  weary  man  may  find  the  bliss  for  which  he  si^h   - 
Where  .orrow  never  lives,  and  friendship  never  dies  ? 
The  loud  waves,  rolling  in  perpetual  flow, 
Stopped  for  a  while,  and  sighed  to  answer-  «  No." 

3. 
And  thou,  serenest  moon.  that,  with  such  lovely  face 
Do  t  look  upon  the  earth  asleep  in  night's  embrace     ' 
Tell  me,  in  all  thy  round,  hast  thou  not  seen  some  spot 
mere  miserable  man  might  find  a  happier  lot'       ^^' 

Behind  a  cloud  the  moon  withdrew  in  woe 

And  a  voice,  sweet  but  sad,  responded-  "No 


>t 

4. 


To  1  mo,  my  secret  soul,  0,  tell  me,  Hope  and  Faith, 

J  .hero  Z  r"""-'"*"  ''■>■"  ^'°"°--  ^'".  -1  deaft  . 
ft  there  no  happy  spot  where  mortals  may  bo  blessed 

W«;/,?  •'  "f-  ^°'"''  ^'  ^"""^  «>  ^o^Ms  given, 
22* 


258  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

LXXIV.  — TUBAL  CAIN. 

Mackat. 

[Charles  Mackay  is  a  liTing  English  authoc,  who  has  written  well  both  m 
prose  and  verse.] 

1.  Old  Tubal  Cain  was  a  man  of  might 

In  the  days  when  the  earth  was  young , 
By  the  fierce  red  light  of  his  furnace  bright, 

The  strokes  of  his  hammer  rung ; 
And  he  lifted  high  his  brawny  •  hand 

On  the  iron  glowing  clear, 
Till  the  sparks  rushed  out  in  scarlet  showers 

As  he  fashioned  the  sword  and  spear. 
And  he  sang,  "  Hurrah  for  my  handiwork ! 

Hun*ah  for  the  spear  and  sword ! 
Hurrah  for  the  hand  that  shall  wield  them  well 

For  he  shall  be  king  and  lord." 

2.  To  Tubal  Cain  came  many  a  one, 

As  he  wrought  by  his  roaring  fire. 
And  each  one  prayed  for  a  strong  steel  blade, 

As  the  crown  ^  of  his  desire ; 
And  he  made  them  weapons  sharp  and  strong, 

Till  they  shouted  loud  in  glee, 
And  gave  him  gifts  of  pearls  and  gold, 

And  spoils  of  forest  free. 
And  they  sang,  "  Hurrah  for  Tubal  Cain, 

Who  hath  given  us  strength  anew ! 
Hurrah  for  the  smith !  hurrah  for  the  fire  I 

And  hurrah  for  the  metal  true !  ** 

8.  But  a  sudden  change  came  o'er  bis  heart 
Ere  the  setting  of  the  su% 


i 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  259 

And  Tubal  Cain  was  filled  with  pain 

For  the  evil  he  had  done. 
He  saw  that  men,  witli  rage  and  hate, 

Made  war  upon  their  kind ; 
That  the  land  was  red  with  the  blood  they  shed 

In  their  lust^  for  carnage  blind. 
And  he  said,  "  Alas,  that  ever  I  made, 

Or  that  skill  of  mine  should  plan. 
The  spear  and  the  sword,  for  men  whose  joy 

Is  to  slay  their  fellow-man !  " 

4.   And  for  many  a  day  old  Tubal  Cain 

Sat  brooding  o'er  his  woe ; 
And  his  hand  forbore  to  smite  the  ore, 

And  his  furnace  smouldered"  low; 
But  he  rose  at  last  with  a  cheerful  face. 

And  a  bright,  courageous  eye. 
And  bared  his  strong  right  arm  for  work, 

While  the  quick  flames  mounted  high ; 
And  he  sang,  "  Hurrah  for  my  handiwork** ! " 

And  the  red  sparks  lit  the  air  — 
"  Not  alone  for  the  blade  was  the  bright  steel  made,"  — 

And  he  fashioned  the  first  ploughshare. 

6.  And  men,  taught  wisdom  from  the  past. 

In  friendship  joined  their  hands, 
Hung  the  sword  in  the  hall,  the  spear' on  the  wall, 

And  ploughed  the  willing  lands; 
And  sang,  "  Hurrah  for  Tubal  Cain  I 

Our  stanch^  good  friend  is  he; 
And,  for  the  ploughshare  and  the  plough, 

To  him  our  praise  shall  be. 
But  while  oppression  lifts  its  head, 

Or  a  tyrant  would  be  lord, 


260 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


Though  we  may  thank  him  for  the  plough, 
We'll  not  forget  the  sword." 


1  BaAwN'y.    Muscular  ;  strong. 

3  Cr6>Vn.  a  wreath-shaped  or  circu- 
lar covering  for  the  head,  worn  by 
sovereigns  as  a  badge  of  regal  pow- 
er ;  highest  point ;  chief  object. 

•  LOST.    Inordinate  desire. 


4  Smoul'dered.       Burned    without 

flame  or  vent, 

5  HXnd'}-work  (-wurk).  Work  of  the 

hand  ;  manufacture. 

6  Stanch.    Firmj  sure. 


LXXV.  — THE  APPROACH  OF  DAY. 

Edward  Everett. 

[From  an  oration  delivered  at  Albany,  on  the  2Fth  of  August,  1856,  at  the 
Inauguration  of  the  Dudley  Astronomical  Observatory.] 

1.  The  great  object  of  all  knowledge  is  to  enlarge  and 
purify  the  soul,  to  fill  the  mind  with  noble  contemplations, 
and  to  furnish  a  refined  pleasure.  Considering  this  as  the 
ultimate  end  of  science,  no  branch  of  it  can  surely  claim 
precedence'  of  astronomy.  No  other  science  furnishes 
such  a  palpable  embodiment'  of  the  abstractions  which  lie 
at  the  foundation  of  our  intellectual  system  —  the  great 
ideas  of  time,  and  space,  and  extension,  and  magnitude, 
and  number,  and  motion,  and  power. 

2.  How  grand  the  conception  of  the  ages  on  ages  re- 
quired for  several  of  the  secular  equations  *  of  the  solar 
system ;  of  distances  from  which  the  light  of  a  fixed 
star  would  not  reach  us  in  twenty  millions  of  years;  of 
magnitudes  compared  with  which  the  earth  is  but  a  foot- 
ball, of  starry  hosts,  suns  like  our  own,  numberless  as  the 
Bands   on   the   shore;    of  worlds   and   systems   shooting 

*  The  moA'ements  of  the  heavenly  bodies  are  very  nearly  but  not  quite  uni. 
form.  There  are  slight  variations,  which  must  be  taken  into  account  to  secure 
accurate  results.  Some  of  these  variations  stretch  over  very  long  periods,  even 
v.'hole  centuries.  Secular  equations  are  the  corrections  required  by  variations 
of  this  kind.  Secular  is  derived  from  seoulum,  a  Latin  word,  meaning  an  age 
or  century. 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  261 

through  the  iirfinite  spaces,  with  a  velocity  compared  with 
which  the  cannon  ball  is  a  way-worn,  heavy-paced  trav- 
eller. 

3.  Much,  however,  as  we  are  indebted  to  our  observato- 
ries^ for  elevating  our  conceptions  of  the  heavenly  bodies, 
they  present,  even  to  the  unaided  sight,  scenes  of  glory 
which  words  aie  too  feeble  to  describe.  I  had  occasion,  a 
few  weeks  since,  to  take  the  early  train  from  Providence 
to  Boston,  and  for  this  purpose  rose  at  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning. 

4.  Every  thing  around  was  wrapped  in  darkness  and 
hushed  in  silence,  broken  only  by  what  seemed  at  that 
hour  the  unearthly  clank  and  rush  of  the  train.  It  was  a 
mild,  serene,  midsummer's  night ;  the  sky  was  without  a 
cloud ;  the  winds  were  whist.  The  moon,  then  in  the  last 
quarter,  had  just  risen,  and  the  stars  shone  with  a  spectral 
lustre  but  little  affected  by  her  presence.  Jupiter,  two 
hours  high,  was  tlie  herald  of  the  day;  the  Pleiades,*  just 
above  the  horizon,  shed  their  sweet  influence  in  the  east; 
Lyra  f  sparkled  near  the  zenith ;  Andromeda  J  veiled 
her  newly-discovered  glories  from  the  naked  eye  in  the 
south ;  the  steady  Pointers*  far  beneath  the  pole,  looked 
meekly  up  from  the  depths  of  the  north  to  their  sovereign. 

5.  Such  was  the  glorious  spectacle  as  I  entered  the 
train.  As  we  proceeded,  the  timid  approach  of  twilight 
became  more  perceptible ;  the  intense  blue  of  the  sky  be- 
gan to  soften ;  the  smaller  stars,  like  little  children,  went 
first  to  rest ;  the  sister-beams  of  the  Pleiades  soon  melted 
together;  but  the  bright  constellations*  of  the  west  and 
north  remained  unchanged.  Steadily  the  Avondrous  trans- 
figuration ^  went  on.  Hands  of  angels,  hidden  from  mortal 
eyes,  shifted  the  scenery  of  the  heavens ;  the  glories  of 
night  dissolved  into  the  glories  of  the  dawn. 

6.  The  blue    sky  now  turned   more  softly  gray;   the 

*Pl.£'i^-DE§  (plS'yst  dSz).  t  Ly'k^.  X  -^N  dr6m  e  D^ 


262 


THE   FIFTH   READEE. 


great  watch-stars  shut  up  their  holy  eyes ;  the  east  began 
to  kindle.  Faint  streaks  of  purple  soon  blushed  along  the 
sky;  the  whole  celestial  concave'  was  filled  with  the  in- 
flowing tides  of  the  morning  light,  which  came  pouring 
down  from  above  in  one  great  ocean  of  radiance ;  till  at 
length,  as  we  reached  the  Blue  Hills,  a  flash  of  purple  fire 
blazed  out  from  above  the  horizon,  and  turned  the  dewy 
tear-drops  of  flower  and  leaf  into  rubies  and  diamonds. 
In  a  few  seconds,  the  everlasting  gates  of  the  morning 
were  thrown  wide  open,  and  the  lord  of  day,  arrayed  in 
glories  too  severe  for  the  gaze  of  man,  began  his  course. 

7.  I  do  not  wonder  at  the  superstition  of  the  ancient 
Magians,  who  in  the  morning  of  the  world  went  up  to  the 
hill-tops  of  Central  Asia,  and,  ignorant  of  the  true  God, 
adored  the  most  glorious  work  of  his  hand.  But  I  am 
filled  with  amazement,  when  I  am  told  that  in  this  enlight- 
ened age,  and  in  the  heart  of  the  Christian  world,  there 
are  persons  who  can  witness  this  daily  manifestation  of 
the  power  and  wisdom  of  the  Creator,  and  yet  say  in  their 
hearts,  "  There  is  no  God." 


1  Pre-ce'dence.     Foremost  place  or 

rank  ;  priority  ;  superiority. 
«  ^M  b6d'|  m£nt.     Collection  into  a 
body  or  mass. 
OB-§gu  v'A-TQ-RiE§.  Places  or  build- 
ings for  making  observations  on 
the  heavenly  bodies. 
PoIn'ter?.     Two  stars  in  the  con- 
stellatiou  Ursa  Mtgor,  which  al- 


ways point  in  nearly  a  right  line 
with  the  north  star. 

6  C61M-STEL  LA'TIQN.  A    group    o( 

fixed  stars. 

6  TrXns  FiG  v-RA'TiQN.      Change  of 

form  ;  transformation. 

7  CSn'jCave.    a  hollow  without  an- 

gles,  as  U^e  inner  surface  of  a  bowl 
or  sphert. 


THE   FIFTH  READER.  263 

LXXVL  — EDINBURGH  AFTER  FLODDEN. 

Willi  A.M  Edmondstoune  Aytoun. 

[William  Edmondstoune  Aytoun  was  born  in  Scotland,  in  1813,  and  died  An» 
gust  4,  1865.  In  1845  he  was  elected  to  the  professorship  of  rhetoric  and  bellea- 
lettres  in  the  University  of  Edinburofh,  which  he  held  till  the  time  of  his  death. 

The  battle  of  Flodden  was  fought  in  the  year  1513,  between  the  Scotch  army 
under  King  James  IV.,  and  the  English,  commanded  by  the  Earl  of  Surrey, 
The  defeat  of  the  Scotch  was  most*  disastrous.  Their  king  was  killed,  and  the 
greater  part  of  their  army  destroyed.  The  loss  of  life  among  the  gentry  was 
especially  severe,  so  tliat  there  was  hardly  a  noble  family  in  the  kingdom  that 
was  not  thrown  into  mourning.] 

1.  News  of  battle  !  —  news  of  battle ! 

Hark !  'tis  ringing  down  the  street : 
And  the  archways  and  the  pavement 

Bear  the  clang  of  hurrying  feet. 
News  of  battle  !  —  who  hath  brought  it  ? 

News  of  triumph !  —  who  should  bring 
Tidings  from  our  noble  army, 

Greetings  from  our  gallant  King  ? 

2.  All  last  night  we  watched  the  beacons ' 

Blazing  on  the  hills  afar, 
Each  one  bearing,  as  it  kindled, 

Message  of  the  opened  war. 
All  night  long  the  northern  streamers 

Shot  across  the  trembling  sky ; 
Fearful  lights,  that  never  beckon 

Save  when  kings  or  heroes  die. 

8.  News  of  battle  !  who  hath  brought  it? 

All  are  thronging  to  the  gate ; 
"  "Warder  ^  —  warder !  open  quickly  I 

Man  —  is  this  a  time  to  wait  ?  " 
And  the  heavy  gates  are  opened : 

Then  a  murmur  long  and  loud, 
And  a  cry  of  fear  and  wonder 

Bui'sts  from  out  the  bending  crowd. 


264  THE  FIFTH  EEADEB. 

For  they  see  in  battered  harness* 

Only  one  hard-stricken  man ; 
And  his  weary  steed  is  wounded, 

And  his  cheek  is  pale  and  wan : 
Spearless  hangs  a  bloody  banner 

In  his  weak  and  drooping  hand  — 
"What !  can  that  be  Ran4olph  Murray, 

Captain  of  the  city  band  ? 

4.  Round  him  crush  the  people,  crying, 

«  Tell  us  all  —  O,  tell  us  true ! 
Where  are  they  who  went  to  battle, 

Randolph  Murray,  sworn  to  you  ? 
Where  are  they,  our  brothers  —  children? 

Have  they  met  the  English  foe  ? 
Why  art  thou  alone,  unfollowed? 

Is  it  weal  or  is  it  woe  ?  '* 

5.  Like  a  corpse  the  grisly  warrior 

Looks  from  out  his  helm  of  steel ; 
But  no  word  he  speaks  m  answer  — 

Only  with  his  armed  heel 
Chides  his  weary  steed,  and  onward 

Up  the  city  streets  they  ride  ; 
Fathers,  sisters,  mothers,  children, 

Shrieking,  praying  by  his  side. 
**  By  the  God  that  made  thee,  Randolph  I 

Tell  us  what  mischance  hath  come." 
Then  he  lifts  his  riven  *  banner. 

And  the  asker's  voice  is  dumb. 

a   The  elders  of  the  city 

Have  met  within  their  hall  — 
The  men  whom  good  King  James  had  charged 
To  watch  the  tower  and  wall. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  '  265 

"  Your  hands  are  weak  with  age,"  he  said, 

"  Your  hearts  are  stout  and  true  j 
So  bide  ye  in  the  Maiden  Town,* 

While  others  fight  for  you. 
My  trumpet  from  the  Border-side 

Shall  send  a  blast  so  clear, 
That  all  who  wait  within  the  gate 

That  stirring  sound  may  hear. 

7.  Or,  if  it  be  the  will  of  Heaven 

That  back  I  never  come. 
And  if,  instead  of  Scottish  shouts, 

Ye  hear  the  English  drum,  — 
Then  let  the  warning  bblls  ring  out. 

Then  gird  you  to  the  fray, 
Then  man  the  walls  like  burghers  *  stout, 

And  fight  while  fight  you  may. 
'Twere  better  that  in  fiery  flame 

The  roof  should  thunder  down, 
Than  that  the  foot  of  foreign  foe 

Should  trample  in  the  town !  " 

8.  Then  in  came  Randolph  Murray,  — 

His  step  was  slow  and  weak. 
And  as  he  doffed  his  dinted  helm, 

The  tears  ran  down  his  cheek  : 
They  fell  upon  his  corselet  ®, 

And  on  his  mailed  hand. 
As  he  gazed  around  him  wistfully, 

Leaning  sorely  on  his  brands 

9.  And  none  who  then  beheld  him 

But  straight  were  smote  with  fear^ 
For  a  bolder  and  a  sterner  man 
Had  never  couched  a  spear. 

*  Edinburgh. 

23 


266  THE   FIFTH    READER. 

They  knew  so  sad  a  messenger 
Some  ghastly  news  must  bring, 

And  all  of  them  were  fathers, 

And  their  sons  were  with  the  King. 

10.  And  up  then  rose  the  Provost  ^ — 

A  brave  old  man  was  he, 
Of  ancient  name,  and  knightly  fame, 
And  chivalrous  degree. 

O,  woful  now  was  the  old  man's  look, 

And  he  spake  right  heavily : 
**  Now,  Randolph,  tell  thy  tidings, 

However  sharp  they  be ! 
"Woe  is  written  on  thy  visage  °, 

Death  is  looking  from  thy  face : 
Speak !  though  it  be  of  overthrow  — 

It  cannot  bo  disgrace ! " 

11.  Right  bitter  was  the  agony 

That  wrung  that  soldier  proud : 
Thrice  did  he  strive  to  answer. 

And  thrice  he  groaned  aloud. 
Then  he  gave  the  riven  banner 

To  the  old  man's  shaking  hand, 
Saying,  "  That  is  all  I  bring  ye 

From  the  bravest  of  the  land ! 
Ay !  ye  may  look  upon  it  — 

It  was  guarded  well  and  long. 
By  your  brothers  and  your  children, 

By  the  valiant  and  the  strong. 
One  by  one  they  fell  around  it. 

As  the  archers  laid  them  low. 
Grimly  dying,  still  unconquered, 

With  their  faces  to  the  foe. 


THE   FIFTH  READER.  267 

12.  Ay !  ye  well  may  look  upon  it  — 

There  is  more  than  honor  there, 
Else  be  sure,  I  had  not  brought  it 

From  the  field  of  dark  despair. 
Never  yet  was  royal  banner 

Steeped  in  such  a  costly  dye ; 
It  hath  lain  upon  a  bosom 

Where  no  other  shroud  shall  lie. 
Sirs !  I  charge  you,  keep  it  holy, 

Keep  it  as  a  sacred  thing, 
For  the  stain  ye  see  upon  it 

Was  the  life-blood  of  your  King ! " 

13.  Woe,  woe,  and  lamentation  ! 

What  a  piteous  cry  was  there ! 
Widows,  maidens,  mothers,  children, 
Shrieking,  sobbing  in  despair ! 

14.  O,  the  blackest  day  for  Scotland 

That  she  ever  knew  before  ! 
O  our  King !  the  good,  the  noble, 

Shall  we  see  him  never  more  ? 
Woe  to  us,  and  woe  to  Scotland  ! 

O  our  sons,  our  sons  and  men  ! 
Surely  some  have  'scaped  the  Southron,* 

Surely  some  will  come  again?" 
Till  the  oak  that  fell  last  winter 

Shall  uprear  its  shattered  stem  — 
Wives  and  mothers  of  Dunedin  —  f 

Ye  may  look  in  vain  for  them ! 

Beacon.    A  ilre  lighted  on  a  height    «  Corse'let.    A  breastplate  or  light 


as  a  signal. 
t  WXro'er.    Keepv'ir  ;  guard. 
»  Har  NESS.    Defensive  armor ;  equip^ 

ment  of  an  ancient  knight. 
*  ETv'en,    Torn  or  rent  asunder. 
6  BUrgh'er  (blir'ger).     A  townsman. 


armor  for  the  fore  part  of  the  body . 

7  Brand.    Sword. 

8  Prov'ost.     The  chief  or  head.    Tu 

Scotland,  a  provost  corresponds  to 
a  mayor  elsewhere. 

9  V'i§'AGE.    P'ace. 


*  SouTU'RpN.    Englishman.       f  DON  £d'in.   Gaelic  name  for  EdinburgiL 


268  THE   FIFTH   READER. 


LXXVIL— DIALOGUE    BETWEEN    ANTONY    AND 
VENTIDIUS. 

Drydex. 

[John  Dryden,  a  celebrated  English  poet,  was  born  in  1631,  and  died  in  1700. 
He  was  a  voluminous  writer,  his  works  comprising  tragedies,  comedies,  satires, 
didactic  poems,  narrative  poems,  odes,  and  occasional  pieces.  His  is  an  emi-^ 
nont  name  in  English  literature.  No  writer  is  a  greater  master  in  the  use  of 
the  heroic  measure,  and  no  one  possesses  in  so  high  a  degree  the  power  of  rea- 
soning in  verse.    He  was  also  a  forcible  and  animated  prose  writer. 

The  following  scene  is  from  the  tragedy  of  "  All  for  Love."  Mark  Antony, 
a  distinguished  Koman,  despairing  of  further  success  in  the  field,  after  his  de- 
feat at  Actium,  gives  himself  up  to  inglorious  ease.  Ventidiuh  is  one  of  his 
generals.  Octavius  Cajsar  (afterwards  the  Emperor  Augustus)  has  taken  up 
arms  against  Antony.  Cleopatra  is  the  Queen  of  Egypt,  for  whom  Antony 
has  abandoned  his  wife  Octavia,  the  sister  of  Octavius  Caesar.] 

Antony.    Art  thou  Ventidius  ? 

Ventidius.  Are  you  Antony  ? 

Fm  liker  what  I  was,  than  you  to  him 
I  left  you  last. 

Ant.  I'm  angry. 

Ven.    So  am  I. 

Ant.  I  would  be  private :  leave  me. 

Ven.    Sir,  I  love  you, 
And  therefore  will  not  leave  you. 

Ant.    Will  not  leave  me ! 
Where  have  you  learnt  that  answer  ?    Who  am  I  ? 

Ven.    My  Emperor :  the  man  I  love  next  Heaven. 
If  I  said  more,  I  think  'twere  scarce  a  sin ; 
You're  all  that's  good  and  noble. 

Ant.  All  that's  wretched. 

You  will  not  leave  me,  then  ? 

Ven.  'Twas  too  presuming 

To  say  I  would  not :  but  I  dare  not  leave  you ; 
And  'tis  unkind  in  you  to  chide  me  henco 
So  soon,  when  I  so  far  have  come  to  see  you. 

Ant.    Now  thou  hast  seen  me,  art  thou  satisfied  ? 


THE  FIFTH  READEB.  269 

For,  if  a  friend,  thou  hast  beheld  enough ; 
And,  if  a  foe,  too  much. 

Ven.    Look,  Emperor,  this  is  no  common  dew  : 
I  have  not  wept  these  forty  years ;  but  now 
My  mother  comes  afresh  into  my  eyes ; 
I  cannot  help  her  softness. 

Atit.    Sure  there's  contagion  *  in  the  tears  of  friends; 
See,  I  have  caught  it  too.     Believe  me,  'tis  not 
For  my  own  griefs,  but  thine  —  nay,  father  — 

Ve?!.    Emperor. 

Ant.     Emperor !  why  that's  the  style  of  victory. 
The  conquering  soldier,  red  with  unfelt  wounds, 
Salutes  his  general  so :  but  never  more 
Shall  that  sound  reach  my  ears. 
X  lost  a  battle. 

Ven.  So  has  Julius*  done. 

Ant.    Thou  favor'st  me,   and  speak'st  not  half  thou 
think'st ; 
For  Julius  fought  it  out,  and  lost  it  fairly : 
But  Antony 

Ven.  Nay,  stop  not. 

Ant.  Antony  — 

(Well,  thou  wilt  have  it)  —  like  a  coward  fled, 
Fled  while  his  soldiers  fought;  fled  first,  Ventidius. 
Thou  long'st  to  curse  me,  and  I  give  thee  leave. 
I  know  thou  cam'st  prepared  to  rail. 

Ve?!.  I  did. 

Ant.     I'll  help  thee  — I  have  been  a  man,  Ventidius. 

Ven.    Yes,  and  a  brave  one  :  but  — ■ 

Ant.  I  know  thy  meaning. 

But  I  have  lost  my  reason,  have  disgraced 
The  name  of  soldier,  with  inglorious  ease. 
In  the  full  vintage  ^  of  my  flowing  honors 
Sate  still,  and  saw  it  pressed  by  other  hands. 

*  Julius  Caesar. 

23* 


2T0  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

Fortune  came  smiling  to  my  youth,  and  wooed  it, 

And  purple  greatness  met  my  ripened  years. 

When  first  I  came  to  empire  I  was  borne 

On  tides  of  people,  crowding  to  my  triumphs ^ 

I  was  so  great,  so  happy,  so  beloved, 

Fate  could  not  ruin  me ;  till  I  took  pains, 

And  worked  against  my  fortune,  chid  her  fi'om  me, 

And  turned  her  loose  :  yet  still  she  came  again. 

My  careless  days,  and  my  luxurious  nights. 

At  length  have  wearied  her,  and  now  she's  gone, 

Gone,  gone,  divorced*  forever. 

Ven.    You  are  too  sensible  already 
Of  what  you've  done,  too  conscious  of  your  failings; 
And,  like  a  scorpion,  whipped  by  others  first 
To  fury,  sting  yourself  in  mad  revenge. 

Ant.    Dost  thou  think  me  desperate 
Without  just  cause  ?    No,  when  I  found  all  lost 
Beyond  repair,  I  hid  me  from  the  world, 
And  learnt  to  scorn  it  here ;  which  now  I  do 
So  heartily,  I  think  it  is  not  worth 
The  cost  of  keeping. 

Ven.  CaBsar  thinks  not  so ; 

He'll  thank  you  for  the  gift  he  could  not  take. 
You  would  be  killed  like  Tully,*  would  you  ?    Do 
Hold  out  your  throat  to  Caesar,  and  die  tamely. 

Ant.    No,  I  can  kill  myself;  and  so  resolve. 

Ven.    I  can  die  with  you,  too,  when  time  shall  serve  j 
But  fortune  calls  upon  us  now  to  live, 
To  fight,  to  conquer. 

Ant.  Sure  thou  dream'st,  Ventidius. 

Ven.    No,  'tis  you  dream  ;  you  sleep  away  your  hours 
In  desperate  sloth,  miscalled  philosophy. 
Up,  up,  for  honor's  sake ;  twelve  legions  wait  you, 

<  Marcus  Tullius  Cicero,  a  distinguished  Roman  orator,  was  bom  106  B.  C 
Hf  was  slain  by  a  party  of  soldiers,  agents  of  Antony,  B.  C.  43. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  271 

And  long  to  call  you  Chief.     By  painful  journeys 
I  led  them,  patient  both  of  heat  and  hunger, 
Down  from  the  Parthian  marches^  to  the  Nile. 
Twill  do  you  good  to  see  their  sun-burnt  faces, 
Their  scarred  cheeks,  and  chapped  hands;  there's  virtue  in 
them. 

AfiL    Where  left  you  them  ? 

Ven.    In  Lower  Syria. 

Ant.  Bring  them  hither ; 

There  may  be  life  in  these. 

Ven.  They  will  not  come. 

Ant.   Why  didst  thou  mock  my  hopes  with  promised  aids, 
To  double  my  despair  ?    They're  mutinous  ? 

Ven.    Most  firm  and  loyal. 

A7it.  Yet  they  will  not  march 

To  succor  me.     O,  trifler ! 

Ven.  They  petition 

Tou  would  make  haste  to  head  them. 

Ant.  I  am  besieged. 

Ven.    There's  but  one  way  shut  up  —  how  came  I  hither  I 

A7it.    I  will  not  stir. 

Ven.  They  would  perhaps  desire 

A  better  reason. 

A?it.  I  have  never  used 

My  soldiers  to  demand  a  reason  of 
My  actions.     Why  did  they  refuse  to  march  ? 

Veji.    They  said  they  would  not  fight  for  Cleopatra. 

Ant.    What  was't  they  said  ? 

Ven.   They  said  they  would  not  fight  for  Cleopatra. 
Why  should  they  fight,  indeed,  to  make  her  conquer. 
And  make  you  more  a  slave  ? 

Ant.  You  grow  presumptuous. 

Ven.    I  take  the  privilege  of  plain  love  to  speak. 

Ant.    Plain  love!  Plain  arrogance ^,  plain  insolence  I 
Thy  men  are  cowards  j  thou  an  envious  traitor ; 


272  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

Who,  under  seeming  honesty,  hast  vented 
The  burden  of  thy  rank,  o'erflowing  gall. 
0,  that  thou  wert  my  equal ;  great  in  arms 
As  the  first  Caesar  was,  that  I  might  kill  thee. 
Without  stain  to  my  honor! 

Veil.  You  may  kill  me  : 

You  have  done  more  already,  —  called  me  traitor. 

Ant.    Art  thou  not  one  ? 

Ven.  For  showing  you  yourself 

Which  none  else  durst  have  done.     But  had  I  been, 
That  name,  which  I  disdain  to  speak  again, 
I  needed  not  have  sought  your  abject  fortunes, 
Come  to  partake  your  fate,  to  die  with  you. 
What  hindered  me  to  have  led  my  conquering  eagles, 
To  fill  Octavius'  bands  ?    I  could  have  been 
A  traitor  then  —  a  glorious,  happy  traitor ! 
And  not  have  been  so  called. 

A?it.  Forgive  me,  soldier; 

I've  been  too  passionate. 

Ve7i.  You  thought  me  false; 

Thought  my  old  age  betrayed  you.     Kill  me,  sir; 
Pray  kill  me ;  yet  you  need  not  —  your  unkindness 
Has  left  your  sword  no  work. 

A7it.  I  did  not  think  so; 

I  said  it  in  my  rage :  pr'ythee,  forgive  me. 
Why  didst  thou  tempt  my  anger,  by  discovery' 
Of  what  I  could  not  hear  ? 

V€7i.  No  prince  but  you 

Could  merit  that  sincerity  I  used  ; 
Nor  durst  another  man  have  ventured  it. 

Ant.    Thou  shalt  behold  me  once  again  in  iron ; 
And,  at  the  head  of  our  old  troops,  that  beat 
The  Parthiams,  cry  aloud.  Come,  follow  me ! 

Ven.    O,  now  I  hear  my  Emperor !    In  that  word 
Octavius  fell.     Methinks  you  breathe 


THE   FIFTH  READER. 


273 


Another  soul ;  your  looks  are  most  divine ; 
You  speak  a  hero. 

A?it.    O,  thou  hast  fired  me !  my  soul's  up  in  arms, 
And  mans  each  part  about  me.     Once  again 
The  noble  eagerness  of  fight  has  seized  me. 
Come  on,  my  soldier; 

Our  hearts  and  arms  are  still  the  same.     I  long 
Once  more  to  meet  our  foes ;  that  thou  and  I, 
Like  Time  and  Death,  marching  before  our  troops, 
May  taste  fate  to  them ;  mow  them  out  a  passage, 
And  entering  where  the  foremost  squadrons  yield. 
Begin  the  noble  harvest  of  the  field. 


1  CpN-TA'9io?f.  The  communication 
of  disease  from  one  person  to  an- 
other by  contact ;  communication 
of  a  like  quality  or  feeling:. 

a  VlN'TA(^E.  The  produce  of  the  vine 
for  the  season. 

»  Tri'Ompiis.  Processions  or  ceremo- 
nies, at  Rome,  in  honor  of  victori- 
ous generals. 


4  Dj-VORCED'.     Separated  by  a  lecral 

process,  as  a  husband  and  wii"e; 
separated  or  disunited,  as  things 
closely  connected. 

5  Marcii'e§.    Frontiers  ;  borders. 

6  Ar'rq-gance.    Conceited  presump- 

tion ;  haughtiness. 

7  Dis-c6v'ER-y.    Act  of  finding  out; 

Aere,  disclosure. 


LXXVIII.  — THE  DEATH  OF  THE  LITTLE 
SCHOLAR. 

Dickens. 

[This  piece  is  taken  from  Master  Humphrey's  Clock.  A  poor,  feehle  old 
man  and  his  little  grandchild,  Nell,  the  stay  and  comfort  of  his  life,  are  home- 
less wandertjrs.  One  evening,  in  their  vranderings,  they  come  to  a  village,  and 
are  oflFered  shelter  for  the  night  by  the  schoolmaster.] 

1.  Without  further  preface,  he  conducted  them  into 
his  little  school-room,  which  was  parlor  and  kitchen  like- 
wise, and  told  them  they  were  welcome  to  remain  under 
his  roof  till  morning.  The  child  looked  round  the  room 
as  she  took  her  seat.  The  chief  ornaments  of  the  walls 
were  certain  moral  sentences,  fairly  copied  in  good  round 
text,  and  well-worked  sums  in  simple  addition  and  multi* 


274  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

plication,  evidently  achieved*  by  the  same  hand,  which 
were  plentifully  pasted  around  the  room ;  for  the  double 
purpose,  as  it  seemed,  of  bearing  testimony  to  the  excel- 
lence of  the  school,  and  kindling  a  worthy  emulation  in 
the  bosoms  of  the  scholars. 

2.  "Yes,"  said  the  schoolmaster,  observing  that  her 
attention  was  caught  by  these  specimens,  "  that's  beautiful 
writing,  my  dear."  "  Very,  sir,"  replied  the  child,  mod- 
estly; "is  it  yours?"  "Mine!"  he  returned,  taking  out 
his  spectacles,  and  putting  them  on,  to  have  a  better  view 
of  the  triumphs  so  dear  to  his  heart ;  "  I  couldn't  write 
like  that  nowadays.  No :  they  are  all  done  by  one  hand ;  a 
little  hand  it  is ;  not  so  old  as  yours,  but  a  very  clever  ^  one." 

3.  As  the  schoolmaster  said  this,  he  saw  that  a  small 
blot  of  ink  had  been  thrown  upon  one  of  the  copies ;  so 
he  took  a  penknife  from  his  pocket,  and  going  up  to  the 
wall,  carefully  scratched  it  out.  When  he  had  finished, 
he  walked  slowly  backward  from  the  writing,  admiring  it  as 
one  might  contemplate'  a  beautiful  picture,  but  with  some- 
thing of  sadness  in  his  voice  and  manner,  which  quite  touched 
the  child,  though  she  was  unacquainted  with  its  cause. 

4.  "  A  little  hand,  indeed,"  said  the  poor  schoolmaster. 
"Far  beyond  all  his  companions,  in  his  learning  and  his 
sports  too.  How  did  he  ever  come  to  be  so  fond  of  me ! 
That  I  should  love  him  is  no  wonder,  but  that  he  should 
love  me — "  And  there  the  schoolmaster  stopped,  and 
took  off  his  spectacles  to  wipe  them,  as  though  they  had 
grown  dim.  "  I  hope  there  is  nothing  the  matter,  sir,"  said 
Nell,  anxiously. 

5.  "  Not  much,  my  dear,"  returned  the  schoolmaster ;  "  I 
hoped  to  have  seen  him  on  the  green  to-night.  He  was 
always  foremost  among  them.  But  he'll  be  there  to- 
morrow." "Has  he  been  ill?"  asked  the  child  with  a 
child's  quick  sympathy. 

6.  "Not  very.     They  said  he  was  wandering  in   his 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  275 

head  yesterday,  dear  boy,  and  so  they  said  the  day  before. 
But  that's  a  part  of  that  kind  of  disorder;  it's  not  a  bad 
sign  —  not  at  all  a  bad  sign."  The  child  was  silent.  He 
walked  to  the  door,  and  looked  wistfully  out.  The  shad- 
ows of  night  were  gathering,  and  all  was  still. 

7.  "  If  he  could  lean  on  somebody's  arm,  he  would  come 
to  me,  I  know,"  he  said,  returning  into  the  room.  "He 
always  came  into  the  garden  to  say  good  night.  But  per- 
haps his  illness  has  only  just  taken  a  favorable  turn,  and 
it's  too  late  for  him  to  come  out,  for  it's  very  damp,  and 
there's  a  heavy  dew.  It's  much  better  he  shouldn't  come 
to-night." 

8.  The  next  day,  towards  night,  an  old  woman  came 
tottering  up  the  garden  as  speedily  as  she  could,  and  meet- 
ing the  schoolmaster  at  the  door,  said  he  was  to  go  to 
Dame  West's  directly,  and  had  best  run  on  before  her. 
He  and  the  child  were  on  the  point  of  going  out  together 
for  a  walk,  and  without  relinquishing  her  hand,  the  school- 
master hurried  away,  leaving  the  messenger  to  follow  ag 
she  might. 

9.  They  stopped  at  a  cottage  door,  and  the  school- 
master knocked  softly  at  it  with  his  hand.  It  was  opened 
without  loss  of  time.  They  passed  into  an  inner  room, 
where  his  infant  friend,  half  dressed,  lay  stretched  upon 
a  bed. 

10.  He  was  a  very  young  boy;  quite  a  little  child.  His 
hair  still  hung  in  curls  about  his  face,  and  his  eyes  were 
very  bright ;  but  their  light  was  of  heaven,  not  earth. 
The  schoolmaster  took  a  seat  beside  him,  and  stooping 
over  the  pillow,  whispered  his  name.  The  boy  sprang  up, 
threw  his  wasted  arms  around  his  neck,  crying  out  that  he 
was  his  dear,  kind  friend. 

11.  "I  hope  I  always  was.  I  meant  to  be,  God  knows,'' 
said  the  poor  schoolmaster.    "  Who  is  that  ?  "  said  the  boy, 


276  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

seeing  Nell.     "  I  am  afraid  to  kiss  her,  lest  I  should  make 
her  ill.     Ask  her  to  shake  hands  with  me." 

12.  The  sobbing  child  came  closer  up,  and  took  the  little 
languid  hand  in  hers.  Releasing  his  again  after  a  time, 
the  sick  boy  laid  him  gently  down. 

13.  "You  remember  the  garden,  Harry,"  whispered  the 
schoolmaster,  anxious  to  rouse  him,  for  a  dulness  seemed 
gathering  upon  the  child,  "  and  how  pleasant  it  used  to  be 
in  the  evening  ?  You  must  make  haste  to  visit  it  again, 
for  I  think  the  very  flowers  have  missed  you,  and  are  less 
gay  than  they  used  to  be.  You  will  come  soon,  my  dear, 
very  soon  now,  won't  you?" 

14.  The  boy  smiled  faintly,  —  so  very,  very  faintly, — 
and  put  his  hand  upon  his  friend's  gray  head.  He  moved 
his  lips,  too,  but  no  voice  came  from  them,  no,  not  a 
sound.  In  the  silence  that  ensued,  the  hum  of  distant 
voices,  borne  upon  the  evening  air,  came  floating  through 
the  open  window. 

15.  "What's  that?"  said  the  sick  child,  opening  his 
eyes.  "The  boys  at  play  upon  the  green."  He  took  a 
handkerchief  from  his  pillow,  and  tried  to  wave  it  above 
his  head.  But  the  feeble  arm  dropped  powerless  down. 
"Shall  I  do  it?"  said  the  schoolmaster. 

16.  "  Please  wave  it  at  the  window,"  was  the  faint  re- 
ply. "Tie  it  to  the  lattice \  Some  of  them  may  see  it 
there.     Perhaps  they'll  think  of  me,  and  look  this  way." 

17.  He  raised  his  head,  and  glanced  from  the  fluttering 
signal  to  his  idle  bat,  that  lay,  with  slate  and  book,  and 
other  boyish  property,  upon  a  table  in  the  room.  And 
then  he  laid  him  down  softly  once  more,  and  asked  if  the 
little  girl  were  there,  for  he  could  not  see  her. 

18.  She  stepped  forward  and  pressed  the  passive  hand 
that  lay  upon  the  coverlet.  The  two  old  friends  and  com- 
panions—  for  such  they  w^ere,  though  they  were  man  and 
child  —  held  each  other  in  a  long  embrace,  and  then  the 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


277 


little  scholar  turned  his  face  towards  the  wall,  and  fell 
asleep. 

19.  The  poor  schoolmaster  sat  in  the  same  place,  hold- 
ing the  small,  cold  hand  in  his,  and  chafing  it.  It  was  but 
the  hand  of  a  dead  child.  He  felt  that;  and  yet  he  chafed 
it  still,  and  could  not  lay  it  down. 


I  ^-CHifVED'.        Performed;     com- 
pleted; done. 
I  Cl£v'er.    Skilful ;  dexterous  ;  able. 
»  C<?n-t£m.'pl,ate.   Consider  closely. 


4  LAt'tice.  a  window  blind  or 
screen  made  by  strips  and  bars 
crossing-  each  other  and  forming 
open  spaces  like  net-work. 


LXXIX.  — BREAK,  BREAK,  BREAK. 

Tennyson. 

[Alfred  Tennyson,  a  living  poet  of  England,  was  born  in  1810.  He  is  a  man 
of  fine  genius,  whose  poetry  is  addressed  to  refined  and  cultivated  minds.  Tho 
music  of  his  verse,  and  his  skill  in  the  use  of  lansjuage,  are  alike  excellent.  He 
has  an  uncommon  power  of  presenting  pictures  to  the  eye,  and  often  in  a  very 
few  words.] 

1.   Break,  break,  break. 

On  thy  cold  gray  stones,  O  Sea  I 
And  I  would  that  my  tongue  could  utter 
The  thoughts  that  arise  in  me. 


O,  w^ell  for  the  fisherman's  boy. 
That  he  shouts  with  his  sister  at  "plsLjl 

O,  well  for  the  sailor  lad. 

That  he  sings  in  his  boat  on  the  bay ! 


And  the  stately  ships  go  on 

To  their  haven  under  the  hill ; 
But,  O,  for  the  touch  of  the  vanished  hand, 

And  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still ! 
24 


278  THE  FIFTH  BEADEB. 

4.  Break,  break,  break, 

At  the  foot  of  thy  crags,  O  Sea ! 
But  the  tender  grace  of  a  day  that  is  dead 
Will  never  come  back  to  me. 


LXXX.— THE  CHARACTER  OF  GREENE. 

Headley. 

1.  Next  to  Washington,  Greene  was  the  ablest  com.' 
mander  in  the  revolutionary  army.  In  person  he  was 
above  the  middle  height,  and  strongly  made.  He  had  a 
fine  face,  a  florid '  complexion,  and  brilliant  blue  eyes.  His 
natural  expression  was  frank  and  benevolent.  In  battle  it 
assumed  a  sternness  tliat  showed,  beneath  his  easy  and 
gentle  manners,  a  strength  of  purpose  not  easily  overcome. 
When  highly  excited,  or  absorbed  in  intense  thought,  he 
had  a  habit  of  rubbing  violently  his  upper  lip  with  his 
forefinger. 

2.  Inured  to  exposure  and  toil,  his  frame  possessed  a 
wonderful  power  of  endurance,  rendered  still  greater  by 
an  indomitable*  will.  He  rose  from  the  ranks,  and  be- 
came a  major-general  solely  by  his  own  genius  and  force. 
Ignorant  of  military  tactics  ^  he  applied  himself  with  such 
diligence  to  the  subject,  that  he  mastered  the  science  in 
less  time  than  many  employ  on  the  rudiments. 

3.  He  had  an  almost  intuitive  perception  of  character. 
Like  Washington,  he  seemed  to  take  the  exact  measure 
of  every  man  who  approached  him.  Many  of  his  actions 
in  the  field  were  based  upon  this  knowledge  of  his  adver- 
saries. 

4.  In  the  southern  campaign*  against  Cornwallis,  his 
movements  were  sometimes  considered  rash  by  those  who 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  279 

judged  of  them  merely  from  the  relative  position  and 
Btrength  of  the  armies.  But  to  him,  who  could  judge 
more  correctly  from  his  knowledge  of  men's  views  and 
character  than  from  their  transient  movements,  what  course 
they  would  take,  his  plans  appeared  the  wisest  he  could 
adopt. 

5.  A  more  fearless  man  never  led  an  army;  and  his 
courage  was  not  the  result  of  sudden  enthusiasm  or  ex- 
citement, but  of  a  well-balanced  and  strong  character.  He 
was  never  known  to  be  thrown  from  his  perfect  self-pos- 
session by  any  danger,  however  sudden ;  he  was  as  calm 
and  collected  when  his  shattered  army  tossed  in  a  perfect 
wreck  around  him,  as  in  his  tent  at  night.  The  roar  of 
artillery  and  the  tumult  of  a  fierce  battle  could  not  dis- 
turb the  natural  action  of  his  mind  ;  his  thoughts  were  as 
clear,  and  his  judgment  as  correct,  in  the  midst  of  a  sud- 
den and  unexpected  overthrow,  as  in  planning  a  cam- 
paign. 

6.  This  was  the  secret  of  his  power,  and  explains  why, 
when  beaten,  he  was  never  utterly  routed.  No  matter 
how  superior  his  antagonist,  or  how  unexpected  the  panic 
of  his  troops,  he  was  never,  like  Gates,  driven  a  fugitive 
from  the  field.  He  possessed  qualities  seldom  found  united, 
• —  great  caution  and  great  rapidity.  Nothing  escaped  his 
glance;  he  seemed  to  forecast  all  the  contingencies  that 
did  or  could  happen.  His  fortitude  was  wonderful.  All 
exposures,  all  privations,  all  embarrassments,  toils,  and  suf- 
ferings, he  bore  with  a  patience  that  filled  his  soldiers  with 
astonishment  and  admiration. 

7.  The  southern  army,  when  he  took  command,  con- 
sisted of  a  mere  handful  of  destitute,  undisciplined,  and 
ragged  troops.  With  these  he  entered  the  field  against 
one  of  the  best  generals  of  the  age,  supported  by  an  army 
of  veteran  soldiers.  With  his  raw  recruits,  he  immedi- 
ately began  the  offensive,  and,  before  his  powerful  enemy 


280  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

penetrated  his  jDlans,  smote  him  a  terrible  blow  at  Cow- 
jDcns.* 

8.  Compelled  to  retreat,  he  completely  foiled,  by  a  series 
of  skilful  manojuvres^  and  forced  marches,  every  attempt 
to  reach  him.  Unable  to  cope  with  his  adversary  in  the 
open  field,  he  retired,  like  the  lion,  slowly  and  resolutely. 
His  pursuer  was  ever  kept  in  view,  and  could  not  make  a 
mistake  without  receiving  a  blow. 

9.  He  thus  led  his  enemy  through  the  entire  State  of 
North  Carolina;  and  the  moment  he  turned,  followed  him, 
and  dealt  him  such  a  staggering  blow  at  Guilford,  that  he 
was  compelled  to  a  precipitate  flight.  No  sooner  was  Corn- 
wallis  beyond  his  reach,  than  he  turned  upon  the  enemy^s 
posts  in  South  Carolina,  and  carrying  them  one  after  an- 
other, brought  the  war  to  Charleston  itself.  His  combina- 
tions were  admirable,  and  succeeded  beyond  the  most  san- 
guine expectations. 

10.  The  resources  of  his  mind  were  inexhaustible'': 
there  was  no  plan  too  hopeless  for  him  to  attempt. 
Without  a  dollar  from  government,  and  penniless  him.- 
self,  he  managed  to  keep  an  army  in  the  field,  and  to  con- 
quer with  it. 

11.  His  soldiers  loved  him  Avith  devotion,  and  havinsr 
seen,  him  extricate  himself  so  often  from  apparently  inevit- 
able ruin,  they  came,  at  length,  to  regard  him  as  invincible. 
Sharing  all  their  toils  and  dangers,  and  partaking  of  all 
their  sufferings,  he  so  won  their  affections  that  they  would 
go  wherever  he  commanded. 

12.  His  patriotism^  was  of  the  purest  kind.  His  own 
reputation  and  life  he  regarded  as  nothing  in  the  cause  of 
freedom.  Next  to  his  country  he  loved  Washington;  and 
no  mean  ambition,  or  envy  of  his  great  leader,  ever  sullied 
his  noble  character. 

13.  That  affection  was  returned,  and   the  two  heroes 

*  Cb\V'p£N§.    A  post  village  in  South  Carolina. 


THE  FIFTH  READER. 


281 


moved  side  by  side,  as  tried  friends,  through  the  revolu- 
tionary struggle.  He  was  a  man  whose  like  is  seldom 
seen ;  and  placed  in  any  country,  opposed  to  any  com- 
mander, would  have  stood  first  in  the  rank  of  military 
chieftains. 


1  Plor'jd.    Flushed  with  red. 

8  In-d6m'i-ta-bl,e.  Not  to  be  sub- 
dued ;  invincible. 

8  TAc'Tics.  The  science  of  military 
and  naval  movements  and  posi- 
tions for  battle. 

4  Jn-tC'i-tIve.  Perceived  by  the  mind 
immediately,  without  reasoning  or 
testimony. 


5  CXm-paign'.  The  time  during  which 
an  army  keeps  the  field  in  one  year ; 
the  movements  or  operations  of  an 
army  for  a  certain  time  or  purpose. 

«  Ma-nceO'vre§  (-nu'vur^).  Military 
or  naval  movements  or  evolutions. 

1  In-e5j:-hAust'i-ble.  That  cannot  be 
exhausted  or  spent ;  unfailing. 

8  PA'TRf-9T-I§M.Love  of  one's  country. 


LXXXL  — HORATIUS  AT  THE  BRIDGE. 

Macaulay. 

[Thomas  Babington  Macaulay  was  born  in  England,  in  the  year  1800,  and 
died  iu  1859.  In  1830  he  became  a  member  of  Parliament,  and  took  an  active 
part  in  the  debates  on  the  Reform  Bill.  He  was  created  a  peer  of  Englaui, 
with  the  title  of  Baron  Macaulay  of  Rothley,  in  1857.  His  writings  consist  of 
a  history  of  England,  in  five  volumes,  "Lays  of  Ancient  Kome  "  and  other 
poems,  numerous  essays,  and  parliamentary  speeches.  They  are  all  remark- 
able for  brilliant  rhetorical  power,  animation,  energy,  and  affluence  of  illustra- 
tion. 

The  ballad,  from  which  the  following  is  an  extract,  commemorates  a  legend 
of  early  Roman  history.  Lars  Porsena  (por'se-n?),  king  of  the  town  of  Clu- 
sum  in  Etruria,  or  Tuscany,  having  declared  war  against  Rome,  suddenly  ap- 
peared with  his  army  on  tlie  opposite  bank  of  the  Tiber.  The  safety  of  the 
city  depended  upon  the  destruction  of  the  bridge  across  the  river.  At  this 
juncture,  three  Roman  citizens  volunteered  to  defend  the  head  of  the  bridge 
until  it  should  be  demolished.] 

1. 

The  Consul's '  brow  was  sad,  and  the  Consul's  speech  was  low, 

And  darkly  looked  he  at  the  wall,  and  darkly  at  the  foe. 

*'  Their  van  will  be  upon  us  before  the  bridge  goes  down  ; 

And  if  they  once  may  win  the  bridge,  what  hope  to  save  the  town  ? " 


2. 
Then  out  spake  brave  Horatius,  the  Captain  of  the  gate : 
•*  To  every  man  upon  this  earth  death  cometh  soon  or  late. 
24  * 


^82  THE    FIFTH   READER. 

AJid  how  can  man  die  better  than  facing  fearful  odds, 
For  the  ashes  of  his  fathers,  and  the  temples  of  his  gods» 

3. 
*«  Hew  down  the  bridge,  Sir  Consul,  with  all  the  speed  ye  may ; 
I,  with  two  more  to  help  me,  will  hold  the  foe  in  play. 
In  yon  strait  path  a  thousand  may  well  be  stopped  by  three. 
Now,  who  will  stand  on  either  hand,  and  keep  the  bridge  with  me  ?  ** 

4. 
Then  out  spake  Spurius  Lartius  *  —  a  Ramnian  proud  was  he : 
"  Lo,  I  will  stand  on  thy  right  hand,  and  keep  the  bridge  with  thee." 
And  out  spake  strong  Herminius,  of  Titian  f  blood  was  he : 
"I  will  abide  on  thy  left  side,  and  keep  the  bridge  with  thee." 

5. 

*«  Horatius,"  quoth  '  the  Consul,  «« as  thou  sayest,  so  let  it  be.'* 
And  straight  against  that  great  array  forth  went  the  dauntless  Three ; 
For  Romans  in  Rome's  quarrel  spared  neither  land  nor  gold, 
Nor  son  nor  wife,  nor  limb  nor  life,  in  the  brave  days  of  old. 

6. 

Meanwhile  the  Tuscan  army,  right  glorious  to  behold, 
Came  flashing  back  the  noonday  light, 
Rank  behind  rank,  like  surges  bright 
Of  a  broad  sea  of  gold. 
Four  himdred  trumpets  sounded  a  peal  of  warlike  glee, 

As  that  great  host,  with  measured  tread,  >' 

And  spears  advanced,  and  ensigns  spread, 
Rolled  slowly  towards  the  bridge's  head, 
"Where  stood  the  dauntless  Three. 

7. 
The  Three  stood  calm  and  silent,  and  looked  upon  the  foes, 
And  a  great  shout  of  laughter  from  all  the  vanguard  *  rose  : 

And  forth  three  chiefs  came  spurring  before  that  mighty  mass  ] 
To  earth  they  sprang,  their  swords  they  drew 
And  lifted  high  their  shields,  and  flew 
To  win  the  narrow  pass  ; 

*  Spu'rj-Os  LXr't}-vs  (-Bhe-fis).  t  Tlsn'J^-^Jf. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  283 


Aunus  from  green  Tifcrnum,  Lord  of  the  Hill  of  Vines; 

And  Seius,*  whose  eight  hundred  slaves  sicken  in  Ilva's  mines ; 

And  Picus,  long  to  Clusium  f  vassal  in  peace  and  war, 
Who  led  to  fight  his  Umbrian  powers 
From  that  gray  crag  where,  girt  with  towers, 
The  fortress  of  Nequinum  lowers 
O'er  the  pale  waves  of  Nar. 

9. 

Stout  Lartius  hurled  down  Annus  into  the  stream  beneath ; 

Herminius  struck  at  Seius,  and  clove  him  to  the  teeth ; 

At  Picus  brave  Horatius  darted  one  fiery  thrust. 

And  the  proud  Umbrian's  gilded  arms  clashed  in  the  bloody  dust. 

10. 
Then  Ocnus  of  Falerii  J  rushed  on  the  Roman  Three ; 
And  Lausulus  of  Urgo,  the  rover  of  the  sea ; 

And  Aruns  §  of  Volsinium,  who  slew  the  great  wild  boar, 
The  great  wild  boar  that  had  his  den 
Amidst  the  reeds  of  Cosa's  fen, 
And  wasted  fields  and  slaughtered  men 
Along  Albinia's  shore. 

11. 

Herminius  smote  down  Aruns ;  Lartius  laid  Ocnus  low : 
Right  to  the  heart  of  Lausulus,  Horatius  sent  a  blow. 

"  Lie  there,"  he  cried,  "  fell*  pirate  !  No  more,  aghast  and  pale, 
From  Ostia's  walls  the  crowd  shall  mark 
The  track  of  thy  destroying  bark. 
No  more  Campania's  hinds*  shall  fly 
To  ^'oods  and  caverns  when  they  spy 
Thy  thrice  accursed  sail." 

12. 
But  now  no  sound  of  laughter  was  heard  amongst  the  foes. 
A  wild  and  wrathful  clamor  from  all  the  vanguard  rose. 
Six  spears'  lengths  from  the  entrance  halted  that  deep  array, 
And  for  a  space  no  man  came  forth  to  win  the  narrow  way. 

•  Se'i-Os  or  SE'jys.       f  Ci.tJ'?}-OM.       X  Fj^~i,S.'r\-i.       §  A'rvn?. 


284  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

13. 
But  hark  !  the  cry  is  Astur :  And  lo  !  the  ranks  divide ; 
And  the  great  Lord  of  Luna  comes,  with  his  stately  stride. 
Upon  his  ample  shoulders  clangs  loud  the  fourfold  shield, 
And  in  his  hand  he  shakes  the  brand  which  none  but  he  can  wield, 

14. 
He  smiled  on  those  bold  Romans,  a  smile  serene  and  high ; 
He  eyed  the  flinching  Tuscans,  and  scorn  was  in  his  eye. 
Quoth  he,  •«  The  she-wolfs  litter  stand  savagely  at  bay'  : 
But  will  ye  dare  to  follow,  if  Astur  clears  the  way  ? " 

15. 
Then  whirling  up  his  broadsword  with  both  hands  to  the  height, 
He  rushed  against  Horatius,  and  smote  with  all  his  might. 

With  shield  and  blade,  Horatius  right  deftly  ^  turned  the  blow. 
The  blow,  though  turned,  came  yet  too  nigh  ; 
It  missed  his  helm,  but  gashed  his  thigh : 
The  Tuscans  raised  a  joyful  cry 
To  see  the  red  blood  flow. 

16. 
He  reeled,  and  on  Herminius  he  leaned  one  breathing-space ; 
Then,  like  a  wildcat  mad  with  wounds,  sprang  right  at  Astur'a 

face. 
Through  teeth,  and  skull,  and  helmet,  so  fierce  a  thrust  he  sped. 
The  good  sword  stood  a  hand-breadth  out  behind  the  Tuscan's  head, 

17. 

And  the  great  Lord  of  Luna  fell  at  that  deadly  stroke. 

As  falls  on  Mount  Alvernus  a  thunder-smitten  oak.  * 

Far  o'er  the  crashing  forest  the  giant  arms  lie  spread ; 

And  the  pale  augurs  ^,  muttering  low,  gaze  on  the  blasted  head. 

18. 
On  Astur's  throat  Horatius  right  firmly  pressed  his  heel, 
And  thrice  and  four  times  tugged  amain  '^,  ere  he  wrenched  out  the 

steel. 
**  And  see,"  he  cried,  '*  the  welcome,  fair  guests,  that  waits  you  here  1 
What  noble  Lucumo  comes  next  to  taste  our  Roman  cheer  ?  " 


THE   FIFTH  READER.  285 

19. 

But  at  his  haughty  challenge  a  sullen  murmur  ran, 
Mingled  of  wrath,  and  shame,  and  dread,  along  that  glittering  van. 
There  lacked  not  men  of  prowess,  nor  men  of  lordly  race  ; 
For  all  Etruria's  noblest  were  round  the  fatal  place. 

20. 

But  all  Etruria's  noblest  felt  their  hearts  sink  to  see 

On  the  earth  the  bloody  corses,  in  the  path  the  dauntless  Three : 

And,  from  the  ghastly  entrance  where  those  bold  Romans  stood, 
All  shrank,  like  boys  who,  unaware,  ranging  the  woods  to  start  a  hare, 
Come  to  the  mouth  of  the  dark  lair,  where,  growling  low,  a  fierce 
old  bear 
Lies  amidst  bones  and  blood. 

21. 

But  meanwhile  axe  and  lever  have  manfully  been  plied, 
And  now  the  bridge  hangs  tottering  above  the  boiling  tide. 
•'Come  back,  come  back,  Horatius  !  "  loud  cried  the  Fathers'^  all. 
••  Back,  Lartius  !  back,  Herminius  !  back  ere  the  ruin  fall !" 

22. 
Back  darted  Spurius  Lartius  ;  Herminius  darted  back  : 
And,  as  they  passed,  beneath  their  feet  they  felt  the  timbers  crack. 
But  when  they  turned  their  faces,  and  on  the  farther  shore 
Saw  brave  Horatius  stand  alone,  they  would  have  crossed  once  more, 

23. 
But  with  a  crash  like  thunder  fell  every  loosened  beam. 
And,  like  a  dam,  the  mighty  wreck  lay  right  athwart  '^  the  stream: 
And  a  long  shout  of  triumph  rose  from  the  walls  of  Rome, 
As  to  the  highest  turret-tops  was  splashed  the  yellow  foam. 

24. 
Alone  stood  brave  Horatius,  but  constant  still  in  mind  ; 
Thrice  thirty  thousand  foes  before,  and  the  broad  flood  behind. 
"  Down  with  him  ! "  cried  false  Sextus,  with  a  smile  on  his  paleface 
"  Now  yield  thee,"  cried  Lars  Porsena,  "now  yield  thee  to  our  grace." 

25. 

Round  turned  he,  as  not  deigning  those  craven  ranks  to  see ; 
Naught  spake  he  to  Lars  Porsena,  to  Sextus  naught  spake  he  | 


286 


THE   FIFTH  READER. 


But  he  saw  on  Palatinus  *  the  white  porch  of  his  home ; 

And  he  spake  to  the  noble  river  that  rolls  by  the  towers  of  Rome. 

26. 
••  O  Tiber !  father  Tiber  !  to  whom  the  Romans  pray, 
A  Roman's  life,  a  Roman's  arms,  take  thou  in  charge  this  day  !" 
So  he  spake,  and  speaking,  sheathed  the  good  sword  by  his  side, 
And,  with  his  harness  on  his  back,  plunged  headlong  in  the  tide. 

27o 
No  sound  of  joy  or  sorrow  was  heard  from  either  bank; 
But  friends  and  foes,  in  dumb  surprise, 
With  parted  lips  and  straining  eyes, 
Stood  gazing  where  he  sank  ; 
And  when  above  the  surges  they  saw  his  crest  appear, 
All  Rome  sent  forth  a  rapturous  cry, 
And  even  the  ranks  of  Tuscany 
Could  scarce  forbear  to  cheer. 

28. 

But  fiercely  ran  the  current,  swollen  high  by  months  of  rain  ; 
And  fast  his  blood  was  flowing ;  and  he  was  sore  in  pain, 
And  heavy  with  his  armor,  and  spent  with  changing  blows : 
And  oft  they  thought  him  sinking,  but  still  again  he  rose. 

29. 

And  now  he  feels  the  bottom  ;  now  on  dry  earth  he  stands, 
Now  round  him  throng  the  Fathers  to  press  his  gory  hands  ; 
And  now  with  shouts  and  clapping,  and  noise  of  weeping  loud, 
He  enters  through  the  River-gate,  borne  by  the  joyous  crowd. 


1  C6n'sul,.    One  of  the  two  chief  mag'- 

istrates  of  the  ancient  Eoman  re- 
public. 

2  QudTii.    Said. 

8  DXuNT'LEss.  Incapable  of  being 
intimidated  ;  fearless. 

4  VXrj'GUARD,  That  part  of  an  army 
which  g'oes  before  the  main  body 
on  a  march,  to  guard  against  a  sur- 
prise. 

6  FELL.     Cruel }  inhuman. 


6  Hind.    A    coimtryman  ;    a  rustic  5 

also,  the  female  of  the  red  deer. 

7  Bay.     The  state  of  being'  obliged  to 

face  one's   enemies,  through  im 
possibility  of  escape. 

8  DiiFT'LY.    Dexterously. 

9  Au'GVR.    A  soothsayer. 

10  A-main'.    Violently  ;  with  might. 

11  Fath'er§.    Members  of  the  Roman 

senate. 

12  A-thwArt'.  Across  ;  transverse  ta 


PAL-iji-Ti'NVs.    Palatine,  one  of  the  seven  hills  of  Rome. 


THE   FIFTH  READER.  287 

LXXXII.  — PETER  THE  GREAT. 

Macaulay. 

[Peter  the  First,  Czar  of  Russia,  commonly  called  Peter  the  Great,  was  born 
in  1G72,  and  died  in  1725.  lie  was  a  man  of  remarkable  ability,  both  as  a  states- 
man and  a  warrior.  Through  his  efforts  for  the  civilization  of  his  people,  his 
internal  improvements,  and  his  conquests  in  war,  Russia  emerged  from  a  posi' 
tion  of  comparative  obscurity  to  one  in  the  first  rank  among  the  nations  of  the 
world. 

Peter  the  Great  visited  London  in  1G98,  in  the  reign  of  William  III.] 

1.  Ox  the  10th  of  January  a  vessel  from  Holland  an- 
chored off  Greenwich,*  and  was  welcomed  with  great 
respect.  Peter  the  First,  Czar  of  Muscovy,t  was  on  board. 
He  took  boat  with  a  few  attendants,  and  was  rowed  up 
the  Thames  |  to  Norfolk  Street,  where  a  house  overlooking 
the  river  had  been  prepared  for  his  reception.  His  journey 
is  an  epoch*  in  the  history  not  only  of  his  own  country, 
but  of  oui-s,  and  of  the  world.  To  the  polished  nations 
of  Western  Europe,  the  empire  which  he  governed  had 
till  then  been  what  Bokhara  §  or  Siam  ||  is  to  us.  That 
empire,  indeed,  though  less  extensive  than  at  present,  was 
the  most  extensive  that  had  ever  obeyed  a  single  chief. 

2.  On  the  Baltic,  Russia  had  not  then  a  single  port. 
Her  maritime*  trade  with  the  other  nations  of  Christen- 
dom was  entirely  carried  on  at  Archangel,  ^  a  place  which 
had  been  created  and  was  supported  by  adventurers  from 
our  island.  In  the  days  of  the  Tudors,  **  a  ship  from  Eng- 
land, seeking  a  north-east  passage  to  the  land  of  silk  and 
spice,  had  discovered  the  White  Sea.  The  barbarians  who 
dwelt  on  the  shores  of  that  dreary  gulf  had  never  before 

*  Pronounces?  Gren 'J J. 

f  MOs'cQ-VY.    A  name  sometimes  applied  to  Russia. 

X  Pronounced  Tfiiviz. 

§  B6k-hX.'rX.    a  state  of  Central  Asia. 

II  Si-Am'.    An  extensive  kingdom  in  the  south-east  of  Asia. 

H"  ARiEH-AN'^Et,.    A  seaport  town  in  the  northern  part  of  Russia. 

**  The  Tudor  dynasty  of  English  sovereigns  began  with  Henry  VIT.  (pro- 
claimed king  in  1485),  the  son  of  Edmund  Tudor,  and  ended  with  Queen  Eliza- 
beth, who  died  in  1603. 


288  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

seen  such  a  portent^  as  a  vessel  of  a  hundred  and  sixty 
tons  burden.  They  fled  in  terror;  and,  when  they  were 
pursued  and  overtaken,  prostrated  themselves  before  the 
chief  of  the  strangers,  and  kissed  his  feet.  He  succeeded 
in  opening  a  friendly  communication  with  them,  and  from 
that  time  there  had  been  a  regular  commercial  intercourse 
between  our  country  and  the  subjects  of  the  Czar. 

3.  The  commercial  intercourse  between  England  and 
Russia  made  some  diplomatic"  intercourse  necessary.  The 
diplomatic  intercourse,  however,  was  only  occasional. 
Three  or  four  times  in  a  century  extraordinary  embassies'* 
were  sent  from  Whitehall  *  to  the  Kremlin,  f  and  from  the 
Kremlin  to  Whitehall.  The  English  embassies  had  histo- 
rians, whose  nan-atives  uiay  still  be  read  with  interest. 
Those  historians  described  vividly,  and  sometimes  bitterly, 
the  savage  ignorance  and  the  squalid*  poverty  of  the  bar- 
barous country  in  which  they  had  sojourned'.  In  that 
country,  they  said,  there  was  neither  literature  nor  sci- 
ence, neither  school  nor  college.  The  best  educated  men 
could  barely  read  and  write.  The  arithmetic  was  the 
arithmetic  of  the  Dark  Ages.  Even  in  the  imperial  treas- 
ury the  computations  were  made  by  the  help  of  balls 
strung  on  wires. 

4.  Round  the  person  of  the  sovereign  there  was  a  blaze 
of  gold  and  jewels;  but  even  in  his  most  splendid  palaces 
were  to  be  found  the  filth  and  misery  of  an  Irish  cabin- 
So  late  as  the  year  1663  the  gentlemen  of  the  re^mue  ^  of 
the  Earl  of  Carlisle  were,  in  the  city  of  Moscow,  thrust 
into  a  single  bed-room,  and  were  told  that,  if  they  did  not 
remain  together,  they  would  be  in  olanger  of  being  de- 
voured by  rats. 

*  Whitehall'  was  a  celebrated  palace  in  London,  for  a  long  time  the  prin- 
cipal residence  of  Eng-lish  sovereig-ns. 

t  The  KkEm'ljn  is  the  central  part  and  most  elevated  site  of  the  city  of  Mos- 
cow (formerly  the  capital  of  llussia),  of  which  it  formed  the  original  nucleus. 
It  is  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  city  by  a  high  wall,  and  contains  the  most 
important  public  edifices. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  289 

5.  Our  ancestors,  therefore,  were  not  a  little  surprised 
to  learn  that  a  young  barbarian,  who  had,  at  seventeen 
years  of  age,  become  the  autocrat  of  the  immense  region 
stretching  from  the  confines  of  Sweden  to  those  of  China, 
and  whose  education  had  been  inferior  to  that  of  an  Eng- 
lish farmer  or  siiopman,  had  planned  gigantic  improve- 
ments, had  learned  enough  of  some  languages  of  Western 
Europe  to  enable  him  to  communicate  with  civilized  men, 
had  begun  to  surround  himself  with  able  adventurers  from 
various  parts  of  the  world,  had  sent  many  of  his  young 
subjects  to  study  languages,  arts,  and  sciences  in  foreign 
cities,  and,  finally,  had  determined  to  travel  as  a  private 
man,  and  to  discover,  by  personal  observation,  the  secret 
of  the  immense  prosperity  and  power  enjoyed  by  some 
communities  whose  whole  territory  was  far  less  than  the 
hundredth  part  of  his  dominions. 

6.  Ilis  empire  was  of  all  empires  the  least  capable  of 
being  made  a  great  naval  power.  On  the  ocean  he  had 
only  a  single  port  —  Archangel ;  and  the  whole  shipping  of 
Archangel  was  foreign.  There  did  not  exist  a  Russian 
vessel  larger  than  a  fishing-boat.  Yet,  from  some  cause, 
which  cannot  now  be  traced,  he  had  a  taste  for  maritime 
pursuits  which  amounted  to  a  passion,  indeed  almost  to  a 
monomania^.  His  imagination  was  full  of  sails,  yard-arms, 
and  rudders.  That  large  mind,  equal  to  the  highest  duties 
of  the  general  and  the  statesman,  contracted  itself  to  the 
most  minute  details  of  naval  architecture  and  naval  disci- 
pline. The  chief  ambition  of  the  great  conqueror  and 
legislator  was  to  be  a  good  boatswain  and  a  good  ship's 
carpenter. 

7.  He  repaired  to  Amsterdam,  took  a  lodging  in  the 
dockyard,  assumed  the  garb  of  a  pilot,  put  down  his  name 
on  the  list  of  workmen,  wielded  with  his  own  hand  the 
calking-iron  and  the  mallet,  fixed  the  pumps,  and  twisted 
the  ropes.     Ambassadors,  who  came  to  pay  their  respects 

25 


290  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

to  him,  were  forced,  much  against  their  will,  to  clamloer  ap 
the  rigging  of  a  man-of-war,  and  found  hitn  enthroned  on 
the  cross-trees. 

8.  Such  was  tlie  prince  whom  the  populace  of  London 
now  crowded  to  behold.  Ilis  stately  form,  his  intellectual 
forehead,  his  piercing  black  eyes,  his  Tartar  nose  and 
mouth,  his  gracious  smile,  his  frown,  black  with  all  the 
Btorray  rage  and  hate  of  a  barbarian  tyrant,  and,  above  all, 
a  strange  nervous  convulsion  which  sometimes  transformed 
his  countenance,  during  a  few  moments,  into  an  object  on 
which  it  was  impossible  to  look  without  terror,  the  immense 
quantities  of  meat  which  he  devoured,  the  pints  of  brandy 
which  he  swallowed,  the  fool  who  jabbered  at  his  feet,  the 
monkey  whidi  grinned  at  the  back  of  his  chair,  —  were, 
during  some  weeks,  popular  topics  of  conversation. 

9.  lie,  meanwhile,  shunned  the  public  gaze  with  a 
haughty  shyness  which  inflamed  curiosity.  He  went  to  a 
play;  but,  as  soon  as  he  perceived  that  pit,  boxes,  and 
galleries  were  staring,  not  at  the  stage,  but  at  him,  he 
retired  to  a  back  bench,  where  he  was  screened  from  ob- 
servation by  his  attendants.  He  was  desirous  to  see  a 
sitting  of  the  House  of  Lords;  but,  as  he  was  deter- 
mined not  to  be  seen,  he  was  forced  to  climb  up  to  the 
leads,  and  to  peep  through  a  small  window. 

10.  William  judiciously  humored  the  whims  of  his  illus- 
trious guest,  and  stole  to  Norfolk  Street,  so  quietly  that 
nobody  in  the  neighborhood  recognized  his  majesty  in  the 
thin  gentleman  who  got  out  of  the  modest-looking  coach 
at  the  Czar's  lodgings.  The  Czar  returned  the  visit  with 
the  same  precautions,  and  was  admitted  into  Kensington 
House  by  a  back  door.  It  was  afterwards  known  that  he 
took  no  notice  of  the  fine  pictures  with  which  the  palace 
was  adorned.  But  over  the  chimney  of  the  royal  sitting- 
room  was  a  plate  which,  by  an  ingenious  machinery,  indi- 
cated the  direction  of  the  wind,  and  with  this  plate  he 
was  in  raptures. 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


291 


11.  He  soon  became  weary  of  his  residence.  He  found 
that  he  was  too  far  from  the  objects  of  his  curiosity,  and 
too  near  to  the  crowds  to  wliich  he  was  himself  an  object 
of  curiosity.  He  accordingly  removed  to  Deptford,  and 
was  there  lodged  in  the  house  of  John  Evelyn,  a  house 
which  had  long  been  a  favorite  resort  of  men  of  letters, 
men  of  taste,  and  men  of  science.  Here  Peter  gave  him- 
self up  to  his  favorite  pursuits.  He  navigated  a  yacht'"' 
every  day,  up  and  down  the  river.  His  apartment  was 
crowded  with  models  of  three-deckers  and  two-deckers, 
frigates,  sloops,  and  fire-ships'*. 

12.  But  Evelyn  does  not  seem  to  have  formed  a  favor- 
able opinion  of  his  august'^  tenant.  It  was,  indeed,  not 
in  the  character  of  tenant  that  the  Czar  was  likely  to  gain 
the  good  word  of  civilized  men.  With  all  the  high  quali- 
ties which  were  peculiar  to  himself,  he  had  all  the  filthy 
habits  which  were  then  common  among  his  countrymen. 
To  the  end  of  his  life,  while  disciplining  armies,  founding 
schools,  framing  codes,  organizing  tribunals,  building  cities 
in  deserts,  joining  distant  seas  by  artificial  rivers,  he  lived 
in  his  palace  like  a  hog  in  a  sty.  Evelyn's  house  was  left 
in  such  a  state  that  the  Treasury  quieted  his  complaints 
with  a  considerable  sum  of  money. 

13.  Towards  the  close  of  March  the  Czar  visited  Ports- 
mouth, saw  a  sham  sea-fight  at  Spithead,  watched  every 
movement  of  the  contending  fleets  with  intense  interest, 
and  expressed  in  warm  terms  his  gratitude  to  the  hospi- 
table government  which  had  provided  so  delightful  a 
spectacle  for  his  amusement  and  instruction.  After  passing 
more  than  three  months  in  England,  he  departed  in  high 
good  humor. 


1  Sp'PjBH  (ep'ok,  or  S'polcV  A  point 
of  time  made  remarkable  by  some 
event,  and  from  which  dates  ara 
Bometimes  computed. 


2  MXR'i-TiaiE.     Relating'  to  the  sea; 

marine. 

3  Por-tent'.    An  omen  of  ill. 

4  Dip-l<?-mXt'ic.    Eclating-  to  the  art 


292 


THE   FIFTH  READER. 


of   conducting  negotiations,  &c., 
between  nations. 
Em'bas-sv.      One  or  more  persons 
sent  from  one  government  to  an- 
other on  business  of  state. 

e  Sqiial'jd  (skwol'id).    Filthy. 

T  So'jovRNED.    Dwelt  for  a  time. 

«  R£t'i-nOe  (nu).     Train  of  attend- 
ants,- a  suite. 


9  M6n-p-ma'ni-a.    Insanity  upon  one 

particular  subject. 

10  Yacht  (ySt).  A  small  pleasure 
vessel. 

u  FiRE'-SHlPS.  Ships  filled  with  com- 
bustibles, to  set  fire  to  an  enemy's 
vessels. 

12  Au-gDst'.  Impressing  awe  i  grand; 
majestic. 


LXXXIII.  — THE  BUNKER  HILL  MONUMENT. 

Webster. 

[Daniel  Webster,  an  eminent  patriot,  lawyer,  and  statesman,  was  born  in 
Salisbury,  New  Hampshire,  January  18,  1782,  and  died  October  24,  1852.  For 
the  last  thirty  years  of  his  life  he  was  in  the  public  service  as  a  Represent- 
ative in  Congress,  or  Senator,  or  Secretary  of  State.  He  was  a  man  of  great 
intellectual  powers,  and  of  striking  and  commanding  personal  appearance. 
The  following  extract  is  taken  from  an  oration  delivered  at  the  celebration  of 
the  completion  of  the  Bunker  Hill  Monument  in  1843.  J 

1.  The  Bunker  Hill  Monument  is  finished !  Here  it 
stands !  Fortunate  in  the  natural  eminence  on  which  it  is 
placed,  higher,  infinitely  higher,  in  its  objects  and  pur- 
pose, it  rises  over  the  land,  and  over  the  sea;  and,  visible 
at  their  homes  to  three  hundred  thousand  citizens  of  Mas- 
sachusetts, it  stands,  a  memorial '  of  the  past,  and  a  moni- 
tor* to  the  present  and  all  succeeding  generations. 

2.  I  have  spoken  of  the  loftiness  of  its  purpose.  If  it 
had  been  without  any  other  design  than  the  creation  of 
a  work  of  art,  the  granite  of  which  it  is  composed  would 
Jiave  slept  in  its  native  bed.  It  has  a  purpose ;  and  that 
purpose  gives  it  character.  That  purpose  enrobes  it  with 
dignity  and  moral  grandeur.  That  well-known  purpose  it 
is   which  causes  us  to  look  up  to  it  with  a  feeling  of  awe. 

3.  It  is  itself  the  orator  of  this  occasion.  It  is  not  from 
my  lips,  it  is  not  from  any  human  lips,  that  that  strain  of 
eloquence  is  this  day  to  flow,  most  competent  to  move  and 
excite  the  vast  multitudes  around.     The  potent  ^  speaker 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  293 

stands  motionless  before  them.  It  is  a  plain  shaft.  It 
bears  no  inscriptions  fronting  to  the  rising  sun,  from 
which  the  fature  antiquarian  *  shall  wipe  the  dust.  Nor 
does  the  rising  sun  cause  tones  of  music  to  issue  from  its 
summit.  But  at  the  rising  of  the  sun,  and  at  the  setting 
of  the  sun,  in  the  blaze  of  noonday,  and  beneath  the 
milder  effulgence  °  of  lunar  light,  it  looks,  it  speaks,  it  acts, 
to  the  full  coniiDrehension  ^  of  every  American  mind,  and 
the  awakening  of  glowing  enthusiasm  in  every  American 
heart. 

4.  Its  silent  but  awful  utterance  ^  its  deep  pathos,  as  it 
brings  to  our  contemplation  the  17th  of  June,  1775,  and 
the  consequences  which  have  resulted  to  us,  to  our  coun- 
try, and  to  the  world  from  the  events  of  that  day,  and 
which  we  know  must  continue  to  rain  influence  on  the 
destinies  of  mankind  to  the  end  of  time,  —  the  elevation 
with  which  it  raises  us  high  above  the  ordinary  feelings 
of  life,  —  surpass  all  that  the  study  of  the  closet,  or  even 
the  inspiration  of  genius,  can  produce. 

5.  To-day  it  speaks  to  us.  Its  future  auditories «  will  be 
through  successive  generations  of  men,  as  they  rise  up  be- 
fore it,  and  gather  round  it.  Its  speech  will  be  of  patri- 
otism and  courage;  of  civil  and  religious  libeity;  of  free 
government;  of  the  moral  improvement  and  elevation  of 
mankind,  and  of  the  immortal  memory  of  those  who, 
with  heroic  devotion,  have  sacrificed  their  lives  for  their 
country. 


1  Me-mo'ri-al.     That  which  calls  to 

remembrance  ;  a  monument. 

2  MoN'iTpR.    That  which  warns  or 

admonishes. 
8  Po'tent.    Powerful. 
4  An-ti-qua'ri-an.    One  versed  in  the 

remains  or  records  of  ancient  times. 

25* 


5  5F-Ft;i,'(3ENCE.  Lustre;  bright- 
ness ;  radiance. 

8  Co!h-pre-h£n'siqn.  Act  or  power 
of  nndcrstandinw. 

7  tix'TER-ANCE.    spccoh I  Speaking:. 

8  Jlu'Di-TO-RiE§.      Assemblages     of 

hearers  ;  audiences. 


294  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

LXXXIV.  — THE  ARSENAL  AT  SPRINGFIELD. 

Longfellow. 

[Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  is  a  native  of  Portland,  Maine,  and  was  grad- 
uated at  Bowdoiu  College  in  1S25.  He  was  Professor  of  Modern  Languages  at 
Bo wdoin  College  for  several  years,  and  held  a  similar  professorship  in  the  Uni- 
versity at  Cambridge  from  1836  to  1851.  Mr.  Longfellow  holds  a  very  high  rank 
among  the  authors  of  America,  and  is  one  of  the  most  popular  of  living  poets.) 

1.  This  is  the  Arsenal.*     From  floor  to  ceiling, 

Like  a  huge  organ,  rise  the  burnished  arms; 
But  from  their  silent  pipes  no  anthem  ^  pealing 
Startles  the  villagers  with  strange  alarms. 

2.  Ah,  what^a  sound  will  rise,  how  wild  and  dreary, 

When  the  Death- Angel  touches  those  swift  keys  I 
What  loud  lament  and  dismal  Miserere  ^ 
Will  mingle  with  their  awful  symphonies"! 

3.  I  hear,  even  now,  the  infinite  fierce  chorus, 

The  cries  of  agony,  the  endless  groan. 
Which,  through  the  ages  that  have  gone  before  us, 
In  long  reverberations  *  reach  our  own. 

4.  On  helm  and  harness  rings  the  Saxon  hammer. 

Through  Cimbric  *  forest  roars  the  Norseman's  f  Bong, 
And  loud  amid  the  universal  clamor, 

O'er  distant  deserts,  sounds  the  Tartar  X  gong. 

5.  I  hear  the  Florentine,  who  from  his  palace 

Wheels  out  his  battle-bell  with  dreadful  din. 
And  Aztec  §  priests,  upon  their  teocallis^ 

Beat  the  wald  war-drums  made  of  serpent's  skin. 

*  CTm'brT.    An  ancient  people  of  Denmark. 

f  Norse'men.    Ancient  inhabitants  of  Denmark,  Sweden,  and  Norway 

X  'I'Xr'ta-ry.  a  name  applied  to  a  vast  region  of  Central  Asia,  and  some- 
times to  a  portion  of  Eastern  Europe. 

$  Az'tecs.  The  nation  of  the  Aztecas  was  one  of  the  native  tribes  or  na- 
tions inhabiting  Mexico  previous  to  the  invasion  of  the  Spaniards. 


THE   FIFTH    READER.  295 

G.  Tlie  tumr.lt  of  eacli  sacked  utkI  burning  A'illnge; 
The  shout,  that  every  prayer  for  mercy  drownvs; 
Tlie  soldiers'  revels  in  the  midst  of  pillage, 
The  wail  of  famine  in  beleaguered^  towns. 

7.  The  bursting  shell,  the  gateway  wrenched  asunder, 

The  rattling  musketry^  the  clashing  blade  ; 
And  ever  and  anon,  in  tones  of  thunder. 
The  diapason*^  of  the  cannonade. 

8.  Is  it,  O  Man,  with  such  discordant  noises, 

With  such  accursed  instruments  as  these, 
Thou  drownest  Nature's  sweet  and  kindly  voices, 
And  jarrest  the  celestial  harmonies  ! 

9.  Were  half  the  power  that  fills  the  world  with  terror, 

AVere  half  the  wealth  bestowed  on  camps  and  courts, 
Given  to  i-edeem  the  human  mind  from  error. 
There  were  no  need  of  arsenals  and  forts. 

10.  The  warrior's  name  would  be  a  name  abhorred  ! 

And  every  nation  that  should  lift  again 
Its  hand  against  its  brother,  on  its  forehead 
Would  wear  for  evermore  the  curse  of  Cain ! 

11.  Down  the  dark  future,  through  long  generations. 

The  echoing  sounds  grow  fainter,  and  then  cease  : 
And,  like  a  bell,  with  solemn,  sweet  vibrations, 

I  hear  once  more  the  voice  of  Christ  say,  "Peace!" 

12.  Peace  !  and  no  longer  from  its  brazen  portals 

The  blast  of  War's  great  organ  shakes  the  skies ! 
But  beautiful  as  songs  of  the  Immortals, 
The  holy  melodies  of  love  arise. 

1  Ar'se-nal.    a  plaof  where  arms  and  I  2  An'tiiem,    A  piece  of  sacred  music; 
military  storcn  are  l^ept.  |       a  holy  souj^-  or  poem. 


296 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


6  Rn§-E-RE'R?.  A  psalm  or  hymn  of 
supplication ;  a  musical  composi- 
tiou  to  words  of  supplication. 
It  is  a  Latin  word,  meaning  have 
mercy. 

<  S$M'PH<?->y.  Harmony  of  ming-led 
sounds  ;  a  musical  composition  for 
a  full  bind  of  instruments. 

*  R^-ver-b^r-a'tiqn.     Act  of  beat- 


ing- back, as  sound  ;  echo ;  sound 
beaten  back. 

6  Te-P-cAl'lis.  Buildings  in  the  form 

of  pyramids,  erected  for  religious 
worship  by  the  ancient  Mexicans. 

7  B?-LEA'GUERED.    Besieged. 

8  Di-A-PA'^QN.      A  chord   which  in- 

eludes  all  the  tones  ;  the  compass 
of  a  voice  or  an  instrument. 


LXXXV.  — THE  WHITE-HEADED   EAGLE. 

Alexander  Wilsox. 

1.  Formed  by  nature  for  braving  the  severest  cold; 
feeding  equally  on  the  produce  of  the  sea  and  of  the  land ; 
possessing  powers  of  flight  capable  of  outstripping  even 
the  tempests  themselves ;  unawed  by  any  thing  but  man ; 
and,  from  the  ethereal'  heights  to  which  he  soars,  looking 
abroad,  at  one  glance,  on  an  immeasurable  expanse  of  for- 
ests, fields,  lakes,  and  ocean  below  him,  the  white-headed 
eagle  appears  indifferent  to  the  change  of  seasons,  as,  in 
a  few  minutes,  he  can  pass  from  summer  to  winter,  from 
the  lower  to  the  higher  regions  of  the  atmosphere,  —  the 
abode  of  eternal  cold,  —  and  thence  descend,  at  will,  to  the 
torrid,  or  to  the  arctic  regions  of  the  earth.  He  is,  there- 
fore, found  at  all  seasons  in  the  countries  he  inhabits,  but 
from  the  great  partiality  he  has  for  fish,  he  prefers  to  live 
near  the  ocean. 

2.  In  procuring  fish,  he  displays,  in  a  very  singular 
manner,  the  genius  and  energy  of  his  character,  which  is 
fierce,  contemplative'',  daring,  and  tyrannical  —  attributes 
exerted  only  on  particular  occasions,  but  when  put  forth, 
overpowering  all  opposition.  Elevated  on  the  high  dead 
limb  of  some  gigantic  tree  that  commands  a  wide  view  of 
the  neighboring  shore  and  ocean,  he  seems  calmly  to  con- 
template the  motions  of  the  various  feathered  tribes  that 


THE  FIFTH  READER. 


297 


pursue  their  busy  avocations  below, — the  snow-white  gul^ 
slowly  winnowing^  the  air ;  the  busy  shore-birds,  coursing* 
along  the  sands;  trains  of  ducks,  streaming  over  the  sur- 
face; silent  and  watchful  cranes,  intent  and  wading; 
clamorous  crows,  and  all  the  winged  multitudes  that  sub* 
sist  by  the  bounty  of  this  vast  liquid  magazine^  of  Nature* 

3.  High  over  all  these  hovers  one  whose  action  instantly 
arrests  his  whole  attention.  By  his  wide  curvature  of 
wing,  and  sudden  suspension  in  air,  he  knows  him  to  be 
the  fish-hawk,  settling  over  some  devoted  victim  of  the 
deep.  His  eye  kindles  at  the  sight,  and,  balancing  him- 
self, with  half-opened  wings,  on  the  branch,  he  watches  the 
result. 

4.  Down,  rapid  as  an  arrow  from  heaven,  descends 
the  distant  object  of  his  attention,  the  roar  of  its  wings 
reaching  the  ear  as  it  disappears  in  the  deep,  making  the 
surges  foam  around.  At  this  moment  the  watchful  eagle 
is  all  ardor;  and,  leveUing  his  neck  for  flight,  he  sees 
the  fish-hawk  emerge,  struggling  with  his  prey,  and  mount- 
ing in  the  air  with  screams  of  exultation. 

5.  These  are  the  signal  for  our  hero,  who,  launching 
into  the  air,  instantly  gives  chase,  and  soon  gains  on  the 
fish-hawk ;  each  exerts  his  utmost  to  mount  above  the 
other,  displaying  in  these  rencounters®  the  most  elegant  and 
Bublime  aerial ''  evolutions.  The  unencumbered  eagle  rap- 
idly advances,  and  is  just  on  the  point  of  reaching  his 
opponent,  when,  with  a  sudden  scream,  probably  of  de- 
spair and  honest  execration",  the  latter  drops  his  fish;  the 
eagle,  poising®  himself  for  a  moment,  as  if  to  take  a  more 
certain  aim,  descends  like  a  whirlwind,  snatches  it  in  his 
grasp  ere  it  reaches  the  water,  and  bears  his  ill-gotten 
booty  silently  away  to  the  woods. 


» Jgl-THE'RE-AL.  EcLititig  to  ether,  or 
tne  refined  air  supposed  to  occupy 
the  heavenly  space  above  the  at- 


moppTierp  :    here,    far    above   the 
surface  of  the  earth. 

2  CQN-TfiM'PL^-TlVE,      ThoUghtful 


298 


THE   FIFTH   RExiDER. 


i  WKn  n5w-ing.    Beating  with  wing-s. 
*  CduRS'iNG.    Running-, 
f  MXg-a-zine'.    a  store-house. 
J  IIen-coOnt'er.    a  meeting  in  con- 
test i  a  casual  combat. 


"  A  e'ki-al.    Belonging  to  the  air. 
8  £x-E  CRA'TiQN.    A  declaration  of  a 

wish  of  evil  against    some   one; 

malediction ;  curse. 
Pol§'iNG.    Balancing. 


LXXXVL— THE  SCHOLAR'S  MISSION. 

George  Putxam. 

[Rev.  George  Putnam,  D.  D.,  was  born  in  Sterling,  Massachusetts,  in  1807. 
He  was  graduated  at  Harvard  University  in  182<),  and  in  1829  was  settled  over 
the  First  Congregational  Church  in  Koxbury.  Tlie  following  extract  is  from 
an  oration  before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society  of  Harvard.] 

1.  The  wants  of  our  time  and  country,  the  constitution 
of  our  modern  society,  our  whole  position,  personal  and 
relative,  forbid  a  life  of  mere  scholarship  or  literary  pur- 
suits to  the  great  majority  of  those  who  go  out  from  our 
colleges.  However  it  may  have  been  in  other  times  and 
other  lands,  here  and  now  but  few  of  our  educated  men 
are  privileged 

"  From  the  loopholes  of  retreat 
To  look  upon  the  world,  to  hear  the  sound 
Of  the  great  Babel,  and  not  feel  its  stir." 

2.  Society  has  work  for  us,  and  we  must  go  forth  to  do  it. 
Full  early  and  hastily  we  must  gird  on  the  manly  gown,* 
gather  up  the  loose  leaves  and  scanty  fragments  of  our 
youthful  lore,  and  go  out  among  men,  to  act  with  them 
and  for  them.  It  is  a  practical  age ;  and  our  wisdom,  such 
as  it  is,  "  must  strive  and  cry,  and  utter  her  voice  in  the 
streets,  standing  in  the  places  of  the  paths,  crying  in  the 
chief  place  of  concourse',  at  the  entry  of  the  city,  at  the 
coming  in  at  the  doors." 

3.  This  state  of  things,  though  not  suited  to  the  tastes 


*  Tlie  toga  mrilis  (manly  gown)  was  put  on  by  the  young  men  of  Rome  cm 
coming  to  maturity. 


THE  FIFTH  EEADER.  299 

and  qualities  of  all,  is  not,  on  the  whole,  to  be  regretted 
by  educated  men  as  such.  It  is  not  in  literary  production 
only,  or  chiefly,  that  educated  mind  finds  fit  expression, 
and  fulfils  its  mission  in  honor  and  beneficence'.  In  the 
great  theatre  of  the  world's  aff*airs  there  is  a  worthy  and. 
a  sufficient  sphere.  Society  needs  the  well-trained,  en- 
larged, and  cultivated  intellect  of  the  scholar  in  its  midst ; 
needs  it,  and  welcomes  it,  and  gives  it  a  place,  or,  by  its 
own  capacity,  it  will  take  a  place  of  honor,  influence,  and 
power. 

4.  The  youthful  scholar  has  no  occasion  to  deplore  the 
fate  that  is  soon  to  tear  him  from  his  studies,  and  cast 
him  into  the  swelling  tide  of  life  and  action.  None  of  his 
disciplinary^  and  enriching  culture  will  be  lost,  or  useless, 
even  there.  Every  hour  of  study,  every  truth  he  has 
reached,  and  the  toilsome  process  by  which  he  reached  it; 
the  heightened  grace,  or  vigor  of  thought  or  speech  he  has 
acquired,  —  all  shall  tell  fully,  nobly,  if  he  will  give  heed 
to  the  conditions.  And  one  condition  —  the  prime  one — 
is,  that  he  be  a  true  man,  and  recognize  the  obligation 
of  a  man,  and  go  forth  with  heart,  and  will,  and  every 
gift  and  acquirement  dedicated,  lovingly  and  resolutely, 
to  the  true  and  the  right.  These  are  the  terms:  and 
apart  from  these  there  is  no  success,  no  influence  to  be 
had,  which  an  ingenuous  mind  can  desire,  or  which  a 
sound  and  far-seeing  mind  would  dare  to  ask. 

5.  Indeed,  it  is  not  an  easy  thing,  nay,  it  is  not  a  pos- 
sible thing,  to  obtain  a  substantial  success  and  an  abiding 
influence,  except  on  these  terms.  A  factitious*  popularity, 
a  transient  notoriety,  or,  in  the  case  of  shining  talents,  the 
doom  of  a  damning /ame,  may  fall  to  bad  men.  But  an 
honored  name,  enduring  influence,  a  sun  brightening  on 
through  its  circuit,  more  and  more,  even  to  its  serene 
setting  —  this  boon  of  a  true  success  goes  never  to  intel- 
lectual qualities  alone.     It  gravitates  °  slowly,  but  surely, 


300 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


to  weight  of  character,  to  intellectual  ability  rooted  in 
principle. 


1  CoN'couRSE  (kong'kors).  The  com- 
ing together  of  many  porsous  or 
things  ;  a  flocking  together. 

>  B¥-n£f'|-c£nce.    Active  goodness. 

•  Dls'cj-PLj-NVRV.     Relating  to  disci- 


pline, or  to  a  regular  course  of  edu- 
cation. 

4  Fac-tI"tiovs.  Unnatural;  made  by 
art;  artificial. 

6  GeAv'i-tates.    Is  attracted. 


LXXXVIL— THE  BATTLE  FIELD. 

Bryant. 

[William  CuUen  Bryant  was  born  in  Cummington,  Massachusetts,  November 
3,  17U4.  He  has  resided  for  many  years  in  or  near  the  city  of  New  York.  His 
poetry  is  distinguished  for  its  high  finish,  its  lofty  moral  tone,  and  its  admirft^ 
ble  descriptions  of  American  scenery.  J 

1.  Once  this  soft  turf,  this  rivulet's  sands, 
Were  trampled  by  a  hurrying  crowd, 
And  fiery  hearts  and  armed  hands 
Encountered  in  the  battle-cloud. 


2.  Ah,  never  shall  the  land  forget 

How  gushed  the  life-blood  of  her  brave. 
Gushed,  warm  with  hope  and  valor  yet, 
Upon  the  soil  they  fought  to  save. 

3.  Now  all  is  calm,  and  fresh,  and  still ; 

Alone  the  chirp  of  flitting  bird. 
And  talk  of  children  on  the  hill. 

And  bell  of  wandering  kine ',  are  heard. 


4.   No  solemn  host  goes  trailing  by 

The  black-mouthed  gun  and  staggering  wain'; 
Men  start  not  at  the  battle-cry ;  — 
O,  be  it  never  hefird  again ! 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  301 

6.   Soon  rested  those  who  fought ;  but  thou, 
Wlio  minglest  in  the  harder  strife 
For  truths  which  men  receive  not  now,  — 
Thy  warfare  only  ends  with  life. 

6.  A  friendless  warfare !  lingering  long 

Through  weary  day  and  weary  year; 
A  wild  and  many-weaponed  throng 
Hang  on  thy  front,  and  flank,  and  rear. 

7.  Yet  nerve  thy  spirit  to  the  proof, 

And  blench  not  at  thy  chosen  lot ! 
The  timid  good  may  stand  aloof, 

The  sage  may  frown  —  yet  faint  thou  not ! 

8.  Nor  heed  the  shaft  too  surely  cast. 

The  hissing,  stinging  bolt  of  scorn, 
For  with  thy  side  shall  dwell  at  last 
The  victory  of  endurance  born. 

9.  Truth,  crushed  to  earth,  shall  rise  again ; 

The  eternal  years  of.  God  are  hers ; 
But  Error,  wounded,  writhes  with  pain, 
And  dies  among  his  worshippers. 

10.  Yea,  though  thou  lie  upon  the  dust. 

When  those  who  helped  thee  flee  in  fear, — 
Die  full  of  hope  and  manly  trust. 
Like  those  who  fell  in  battle  here. 

11.  Another  hand  thy  sword  shall  wield ^ 

Another  hand  the  standard  wave, 
Till  from  the  trumpet's  mouth  is  pealed* 
The  blast  of  triumph  o'er  thy  grave ! 

1  KiNE.    Cows.  I  3  Wield,   Use  with  the  hand  ;  handle 

*  Wain.    A  wagon.  J  4  PEaled.    Kung  j  sounded  loudly. 

26 


302  THE  FIFTH  EEADER. 

LXXXVIII.  — THE  DEATH  SCENE  IN  ION. 

Talfourd. 

[Sir  Thomas  Noon  Talfourd,  an  English  writer,  lawyer,  and  judge,  was  born 
in  1795,  and  died  in  1854.  He  was  made  a  judge  of  the  Court  of  Common  Pleag 
in  1849.  He  was  the  author  of  several  dramatic  poems,  and  of  a  biography  of 
Charles  Lamb.  His  plays  are  characterized  by  smooth  versification,  high- 
toned  sentiment,  and  abundant  imagery.  The  following  is  tlie  closing  scene 
of  "  Ion,"  the  most  popular  of  his  dramas,  the  plot  of  which  is  taken  from  the 
mythology  of  ancient  Greece.  Ion  is  introduced  in  the  beginning  of  the  phiy, 
as  a  youtli  in  attendance  upon  a  temple  of  Apollo  in  Argos,  of  which  Medon  is 
high  priest.  Argos  is  wasted  by  a  pestilence,  which  the  oracle  h;is  declared  will 
not  cease  till  the  line  of  the  reigning  king,  Adrastus,  shall  have  become  ex- 
tinct. Ion'  proves  to  be  the  son  of  Adrastus;  and  having  assumed  tlie  crown 
upon  the  death  of  the  latter,  devotes  himself  to  self-destruction  for  his  coun- 
try's sake.  Clemanthe  is  the  daughter  of  Medon,  and  Phocion  is  his  son.  The 
other  characters  are  sages  and  soldiers  of  Argos.  J 

The  Procession.       Enter  Medon,  Agenor,  Phocion,  Timocles,  Cleon, 
Sages,  and  People  —  Ion,  last,  in  royal  robes.    He  advances  amidst  shouts. 

Ion.    I  thank  you  for  your  greeting. —  Shout  no  more, 
But  in  deep  silence  raise  your  hearts  to  Heaven, 
That  it  may  strengthen  one  so  young  and  frail 
As  I  am,  for  the  business  of  this  hour. 
Must  I  sit  here  ? 

Medon.    Permit  thy  earliest  friend, 
Who  has  so  often  propped  thy  tottering  steps, 
To  lead  thee  to  thy  throne, —  and  thus  fulfil 
His  fondest  vision. 

Ion.    Thou  art  still  most  kind  — 

Medon.    Nay,  do  not  think  of  me.  —  My  son !  my  son ! 
What  ails  thee  ?     When  thou  shouldst  reflect  the  joy 
Of  Argos,  the  strange  paleness  of  the  grave 
Marbles  thy  face. 

Ion.  Am  I  indeed  so  pale  ? 
It  is  a  solemn  office  I  assume ; 
Yet  thus,  with  Phcebus'  *  blessing,  I  embrace  it. 

[Sits  on  the  throne" 
Stand  forth,  Agenor !  f 

*  Phcebus.    Another  name  for  Apollo,  one  of  the  ancient  heathen  deities, 
t  Pronounced  ^-*5'n9r. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  303 

Agenor.     I  await  thy  will. 

Ion.     To  thee  I  look  as  to  the  wisest  friend 
Of  this  afflicted  people.     Thou  must  leave 
Awhile  the  quiet  which  thy  life  hath  earned, 
To  rule  our  councils  ;  fill  the  seats  of  justice 
With  good  men,  —  not  so  absolute  in  goodness, 
As  to  forget  what  human  frailty  is  ;  — 
And  order  my  sad  country. 

Agen.     Pardon  me  — 

Ion.     Nay,  I  will  promise  'tis  my  last  request : 
Thou  never  couldst  deny  me  what  I  sought 
In  boyish  wantonness  ^,  and  shall  not  grudge 
Thy  wisdom  to  me,  till  our  state  revive 
From  its  long  anguish.     It  will  not  be  long 
If  Heaven  approve  me  here.     Thou  hast  all  power, 
Whether  I  live  or  die. 

Agen.     Die  !  I  am  old  — 

Ion.     Death  is  not  jealous  of  thy  mild  decay, 
Which  gently  wins  thee  his  ;  exulting  Youth 
Provokes  the  ghastly  monarch's  sudden  stride. 
And  makes  his  horrid  fingers  quick  to  clasp 
His  shivering  prey  at  noontide.     Let  me  see 
The  captain  of  the  guard. 

Crythes.     I  kneel  to  crave 
Humbly  the  favor  which  thy  sire  bestowed 
On  one  who  loved  him  well. 

Ion.     I  cannot  thank  thee. 
That  wak'st  the  memory  of  my  father's  weakness ; 
But  I  will  not  forget  that  thou  hast  shared 
The  light  enjoyments  of  a  noble  spirit, 
And  learned  the  need  of  luxury.     I  grant 
For  thee  and  thy  brave  comrades,  ample  share 
Of  such  rich  treasures  as  my  stores  contain, 
To  grace  thy  passage  to  some  distant  land, 
Where,  if  an  honest  cause  engage  thy  sword, 


304  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

May  glorious  laurels  wreath  it !     In  our  realm, 
We  shall  not  need  it  longer. 

Cry.    Dost  intend 
To  banish  the  firm  troops  before  whose  valor 
Barbarian  millions  shrink  appalled,  and  leave 
Our  city  naked  to  the  first  assault 
Of  reckless  foes ! 

Ion.    No,  Crythes  !    In  ourselves, 
In  our  own  honest  hearts  and  chainless  hands, 
"Will  be  our  safeguard.  —  While  we  seek  no  use 
Of  arms  we  would  not  have  our  children  blend 
With  their  first  innocent  wishes ;  while  the  love 
Of  Argos  and  of  justice  shall  be  one 
To  their  young  reason ;  while  their  sinews  grow 
Firm  'midst  the  gladness  of  heroic  sports,  — 
We  shall  not  ask,  to  guard  our  country's  peace. 
One  selfish  passion,  or  one  venaP  sword. 
I  would  not  grieve  thee;  but  thy  valiant  troop  — 
For  I  esteem  them  valiant  —  must  no  more, 
With  luxury  which  suits  a  desperate  camp, 
Infect  us.     See  that  they  embark,  Agenor, 
Ere  night. 

Cry.    My  lord  — 

Ion.    No  more  —  my  word  hath  passed. 
Medon,  there  is  no  office  I  can  add 
To  those  thou  hast  grown  old  in.  —  Thou  wilt  guard 
The  shrine  of  Phoebus,  and  within  thy  home  — 
Thy  too  delightful  home  —  befriend  the  stranger 
As  thou  didst  me.  —  There  sometimes  waste  a  thought 
On  thy  spoiled  inmate  ! 

3fecion,    Think  of  thee,  my  lord  ? 
Long  shall  we  triumph  in  thy  glorious  reign  — 

Io7i.    Prithee  3  no  more.     Argives,*  I  have  a  boon 
To  crave  of  you.  —  Whene'er  I  shall  rejoin 

*  AR'9iVE§.    lahabitants  of  Argos. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  305 

In  death  the  father  from  whose  heart  in  life 

Stern  fate  divided  me,  think  gently  of  him! 

For  ye,  who  saw  him  in  his  full-blown  pride, 

Knew  little  of  aifections  crushed  within, 

And  wrongs  which  frenzied  *  him ;  yet  never  more 

Let  the  great  interests  of  the  state  depend 

Upon  the  thousand  chances  that  may  sway 

A  piece  of  human  frailty !     Swear  to  me 

That  ye  will  seek  hereafter  in  yourselves 

The  means  of  sovereign  rule.  —  Our  narrow  space, 

So  happy  in  its  confines,  so  compact, 

Needs  not  the  magic  of  a  single  name 

Which  wider  regions  may  require  to  draw 

Tlieir  interests  into  one ;  but,  circled  thus, 

Like  a  blessed  family,  by  simple  laws. 

May  tenderly  be  governed ;  all  degrees 

Moulded  together  as  a  single  form 

Of  nymph-like  loveliness,  which  finest  chords 

Of  sympathy  pervading  shall  sufifuse  *, 

In  times  of  quiet,  with  one  bloom,  and  fill 

With  one  resistless  impulse,  if  the  hosts 

Of  foreign  power  should  threaten.    Swear  to  me 

That  ye  will  do  this  ! 

Medon,    Wherefore  ask  this  now  ? 
Thou  shalt  live  long!     The  paleness  of  thy  face 
Which  late  appalled  me,  is  grown  radiant  now, 
And  thine  eyes  kindle  with  the  prophecy 
Of  lustrous*  years. 

Ton.    The  gods  approve  me,  then  ! 
Yet  will  I  use  the  function ''  of  a  king. 
And  claim  obedience.     Promise,  if  I  leave 
No  issue  ^,  that  the  sovereign  power  shall  live 
In  the  affections  of  the  general  heart, 
And  in  the  wisdom  of  the  best. 

Medon  and  others.  [Kneeling.];   We  swear  it ! 
2G* 


306  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

Ion.    Hear  and  record  the  oath,  Immortal  Powers/ 
Now  give  me  leave  a  moment  to  approach 
That  altar,  unattended.  [He  goes  to  the  altar. 

Gracious  gods ! 

In  whose  mild  service  my  glad  youth  was  spent, 
Look  on  me  now;  and  if  there  is  a  Power, — 
As  at  this  solemn  time  I  feel  there  is,  — 
Beyond  ye,  that  hath  breathed  through  all  your  shapes 
The  spirit  of  the  beautiful  that  lives 
In  earth  and  heaven,  —  to  ye  I  offer  up 
This  conscious  being,  full  of  life  and  love, 
For  my  dear  country's  welfare.    Let  this  blow 

End  all  her  SOITOWS  !  [Stabs  himself  and  falls.    Ctesiphos 

rushes  to  support  him. 

Enter  iRirs. 

Irus,    I  bring  you  glorious  tidings —    Ha!  no  joy 
Can  enter  here. 

Ion,    Yes  —  is  it  as  I  hope  ? 

Irus.    The  pestilence  abates. 

Ion.  [Springs  on  his  feet.]    Do  yc  not  hear  ? 
Why  shout  ye  not  ?  — Ye  are  strong  —  think  not  of  me. 
Hearken  !  The  curse  my  ancestry  had  spread 
O'er  Argos,  is  dispelled.     Agenor,  give 
This  gentle  youth  his  freedom,  who  hath  brought 
Sweet  tidings  that  I  shall  not  die  in  vain !  — 
And,  Medon  !  cherish  him  as  thou  hast  one 
Who,  dying,  blesses  thee.  —  My  own  Clemanthe ! 
Let  this  console  thee  also  —  Argos  lives  — 
The  offering  is  accepted  —  All  is  well !  [Dies. 


1  Wan'ton-n£ss  (won-).  Sportivcness; 

negligence  of  restraint. 

2  Ve'nal.    That  may  be  bought  ana 

sold ;  hireling. 
PrIth'ee.     a  corruption  of  pray 


t  FrEn'zied.  Affected  with  madness. 

5  Svf-fu§e'.     Overspread  as  with  a 

vapor,  fluid  or  color. 

6  LOs'TRoys.    Bright;  shining. 
T  FrjNC'TiQN,    OflSce;  faculty. 

8  Is'sVE  (is'shy).    Offspring  j  children 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  307 


LXXXIX.  — NATIONAL  MONUMENT  TO 
WASHINGTON. 

WlNTHROP. 

[Robert  Charles  Winthrop  is  a  native  and  resident  of  Boston.  He  was  for  sev- 
eral years  a  member  of  the  House  of  Representatives  in  Congress,  and  Speaker 
of  the  House  from  December,  1847,  to  March,  1849.  In  185G,  he  served  for  a  short 
time  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States,  by  appointment  of  tlie  Governor  of 
Massachusetts.  During  his  public  life  he  was  a  leading  member  of  the  Whig 
party.  The  following  piece  is  taken  from  an  oration  delivered  by  him,  July  4, 
1848,  on  the  occasion  of  laying  the  corner-stone  of  the  National  Monument  to 
Washington.] 

1.  Fellow-Citizens  of  the  United  States:  We  are 
assembled  to  take  the  first  step  towards  the  fulfilment  of  a 
long  deferred  obligation.  In  this  eight  and  fortieth  year 
since  his  death,  we  have  come  together  to  lay  the  corner- 
stone of  a  national  monument  to  Washington. 

2.  Other  monuments  to  this  illustrious  person,  have, 
long  ago,  been  erected.  By  not  a  few  of  the  great  States 
of  our  Union,  by  not  a  few  of  the  great  cities  of  our 
states,  the  chiselled  statue,  or  the  lofty  column,  has  been 
set  up  in  his  honor.  The  highest  art  of  the  Old  World  — 
of  France,  of  Italy,  and  of  England,  successively  —  has 
been  put  in  requisition  for  the  purpose.  Houdon  *  for  Vir- 
ginia, Canovaf  for  North  Carolina,  Sir  Francis  Chantrey  J 
for  Massachusetts,  have  severally  signalized  their  genius  by 
portraying  and  perpetuating  the  form  and  features  of  the 
Father  of  his  Country. 

3.  One  tribute  to  his  memory  is  left  to  be  rendered. 
One  monument  remains  to  be  reared,  —  a  monument 
which  shall  bespeak  the  gratitude,  not  of  states,  or  of 
cities,  or  of  governments  ;  not  of  separate  communities,  or 
of  ofiicial  bodies,  but  of  the  people,  the  whole  people  of 
the  nation,  —  a  National  Monument,  erected  by  the  citizens 
of  the  United  States  of  America. 

*  H6u'd<?n.  t  Ca-n5'vX.  X  CkXn  TR?X. 


308  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

4.  Of  such  a  monument  we  have  come  to  lay  the  corner- 
stone, here  and  now.  On  this  day,  on  this  spot,  in  this 
presence,  and  at  this  precise  epoch  in  the  history  of  our 
country  and  of  the  world,  we  are  about  to  commence  thia 
crowning  work  of  commemoration  \ 

6.  Yes,  to-day,  fellow-citizens,  at  this  very  moment  when 
the  extension  of  our  boundaries  and  the  multiplication  of 
our  territories  are  producing,  directly  and  indirectly, 
among  the  different  members  of  our  political  system,  so 
many  marked  and  mourned  centrifugal  tendencies, — let 
us  seize  the  occasion  to  renew  to  each  other  our  vows  of 
allegiance  and  devotion  to  the  American  Union ;  and  let 
us  recognize,  in  our  common  title  to  the  name  and  the 
fame  of  Washington,  and  in  our  common  veneration  for 
his  example  and  his  advice,  the  all-sufficient  cent'-ipetal' 
power,  which  shall  hold  the  thick  clustering  stars  of  our 
confederacy  in  one  glorious  constellation  forever ! 

6.  Let  the  column  which  we  are  about  to  construct  be 
at  once  a  pledge  and  an  emblem  of  perpetual  union  !  Let 
the  foundations  be  laid,  let  the  superstructure  be  built  up 
and  cemented,  let  each  stone  be  raised  and  riveted  in  a 
spirit  of  national  brotlierhood !  And  may  the  earliest  ray 
of  the  rising  sun  —  till  that  sun  shall  set  to  rise  no  more 
—  draw  forth  from  it  daily,  as  from  the  fabled  statue*  of 
antiquity,  a  strain  of  national  harmony,  which  shall  strike 
a  responsive  chord  in  every  heart  throughout  the  republic. 

7.  Proceed,  then,  fellow-citizens,  with  the  work  for 
which  you  have  assembled.  Lay  the  corner-stone  of  a 
monument  which  shall  adequately*  bespeak  the  gratitude 
of  the  whole  American  people  to  the  illustrious  Father  of 
his  Country !  Build  it  to  the  ski(;s :  you  cannot  outreach 
the  loftiness  of  his  principles!  Found  it  upon  the  massive 
and  eternal  rock :  you  cannot  make  it  more  enduring  than 

*  There  was  n,  statue  at  Thebes  said  to  utter  at  sunrise  a  sound  like  the 
twanging  of  a  harp  string  or  of  a  metallic  wire. 


I 


THE  FIFTH  EEADEE.  309 

his  fame  I  Construct  it  of  the  peerless  Parian '  marble : 
you  cannot  make  it  purer  than  his  life  !  Exhaust  upon  it 
the  rules  and  principles  of  ancient  and  of  modern  art: 
you  cannot  make  it  more  proportionate  than  his  character ! 

8.  But  let  not  your  homage  ^  to  his  memory  end  here. 
Think  not  to  transfer  to  a  tablet  or  a  column  the  tribute 
which  is  due  from  yourselves.  Just  honor  to  Washington 
can  only  be  rendered  by  observing  his  precepts  and  imi- 
tating his  example.  He  has  built  his  own  monument. 
We,  and  those  who  come  after  us,  are  its  appointed,  its 
privileged  guardians.  The  wide-spread  Republic  is  the 
true  monument  to  Washington.  Maintain  its  independ- 
ence.  Uphold  its  constitution.  Preserve  its  union.  Defend 
its  liberty.  Let  it  stand  before  the  world  in  all  its  original 
strength  and  beauty,  securing  peace,  order,  equality,  and 
freedom  to  all  within  its  boundaries,  and  shedding  light, 
and  hope,  and  joy  upon  the  pathway  of  human  liberty 
througliout  the  world  ;  —  and  Washington  needs  no  other 
monument.  Other  structures  may  fitly  testify  our  venera- 
tion for  him ;  this,  this  alone  can  adequately  illustrate  his 
services  to  mankind. 

9.  Nor  does  he  need  even  this.  The  Republic  may 
perish ;  the  wide  arch  of  our  ranged  union  may  fall ;  star 
by  star  its  glories  may  expire ;  stone  by  stone  its  columns 
and  capital  may  moulder  and  crumble ;  all  other  names 
which  adorn  its  annals  may  be  forgotten ;  but  as  long  as 
human  hearts  shall  any  where  pant,  or  human  tongues 
shall  any  where  plead,  for  a  true,  rational,  constitutional' 
liberty,  those  hearts  shall  enshrine  the  memory,  and  those 
tongues  prolong  the  fame,  of  George  Washington  ! 


I   COM-MfiM-p  RA'TIpN.      A  Calling'  to 
remembrance  by  some  public  act. 
Cen-trif'v-gal.      Tending   to  fly 
from  the  centre. 

8  CEN-TRlp'E-TAL.    Tending  towards 
the  centre. 

*  Xd'e-quate-ly.      In  Just  propor- 
tion; sufficiently. 


5  Pa'ri-an  mar'ble.     a    fine   white 

marble  from  the  Island  of  Taros, 
much  used  by  ancient  sculptors. 

6  H6m'A(;je.    Reverence;  respect  •,  def- 

erence. 

7  CoN-STi-Tu'TiON-Aii.         Consistent 

with  the  fundamental  laws,  or  civil 
constitution  of  a  government. 


310  THE   FIFTH  READER. 

Xa— ARNOLD  WINKELllIED, 

James  Montgomkuy 

[James  Montgomery  was  born  in  Scotland,  in  1771,  and  died  in  1854.  He 
wrote  numerous  poems,  whicli  are  distinguished  for  tlieir  religious  tone, 
purity  of  feeling,  and  gentle,  sympathetic  spirit.  Many  of  his  sliorter  pieces 
are  alike  beautiful  in  sentiment  and  style.  The  incident  narrated  in  the  follow- 
inj:  poem  occurred  in  the  battle  of  Sempach,  in  wJiich  the  Swiss,  fighting  for 
their  independence,  totally  defeated  the  Austrians,  in  the  fourteenth  century.] 


1. 


"Make  way  for  Liberty!  "  he  cried,  — 
Made  way  for  Liberty,  and  died ! 

In  arms  the  Austrian  phalanx '  stood, 
A  living  wall,  a  human  wood !  — 
A  wall,  where  every  conscious  stone 
Seemed  to  its  kindred  thousands  grown ; 
A  rampart  all  assaults  to  bear. 
Till  time  to  dust  their  frames  should  wear. 
So  still,  so  dense  the  Austrians  stood, 
A  living  wall,  a  human  wood ! 
Impregnable  their  front  appears. 
All  horrent  ^  with  projected  spears. 
Whose  polished  points  before  them  shine, 
From  flank  to  flank,  one  brilliant  line, 
Bright  as  the  breakers'  splendors  run 
Along  the  billows,  to  the  sun. 

2.    Opposed  to  these  a  hovering  band 
Contended  for  their  father-land; 
Peasants,  whose  new-found  strength  had  broke 
From  manly  necks  the  ignoble  ^  yoke, 
And  beat  thMr  fetters  into  swords, 
On  equal  terms  to  fight  their  lords ; 
And  what  insurgent  "*  rage  had  gained, 
In  many  a  mortal  fray  maintained : 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  311 

Marshalled,  once  more,  at  Freedom's  call, 
They  came  to  conquer  or  to  fall,  — 
When  he  who  conquered,  he  who  fell, 
Was  deemed  a  dead  or  living  Tell !  — 

8.    Such  virtue  had  that  patriot  breathed, 
So  to  the  soil  his  soul  bequeathed. 
That  wheresoe'er  his  arrows  flew, 
Heroes  in  his  own  likeness  grew. 
And  warriors  sprang  from  every  sod 
Which  his  awakening  footstep  trod. 

4.  And  now  the  work  of  life  and  death 
Hung  on  the  passing  of  a  breath : 
The  fire  of  conflict  burned  within,  — 
The  battle  trembled  to  begin. 

Yet,  while  the  Austrians  held  their  ground, 
Point  for  attack  was  nowhere  found ; 
Where'er  the  impatient  Switzers  gazed, 
The  unbroken  line  of  lances  blazed ; 
The  line  'twere  suicide  to  meet, 
And  perish  at  their  tyrants'  feet ;  — 
How  could  they  rest  within  their  graves, 
And  leave  their  homes,  the  haunts  of  slaves  ? 
Would  they  not  feel  their  children  tread, 
With  clanging  chains  above  their  head  ? 

5.  It  must  not  be  :  —  this  day,  this  hour, 
Annihilates  the  invader's  power. 

All  Switzerland  is  in  the  field ;  — 
She  will  not  fly,  —  she  cannot  yield,  -— 
She  must  not  fall :  her  better  fate 
Here  gives  her  an  immortal  date. 
Few  were  the  numbers  she  could  boast  j 
Yet  every  freeman  was  a  host. 
And.  felt,  as  'twere,  a  secret  known, 


312  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

That  one  should  turn  the  scale  alone, 
While  each  unto  himself  was  he 
On  whose  sole  arm  hung  victory. 

6.  It  did  depend  on  one^  indeed ; 
Behold  him,  —  Arnold  Winkelried ! 
There  sounds  not  to  the  trump  of  fame 
The  echo  of  a  nobler  name. 
Unmarked  he  stood  amid  the  throng, 
In  rumination  °  deep  and  long, 

Till  you  might  see  with  sudden  grace, 

The  very  thought  come  o'er  his  fiace, 

And  by  the  motion  of  his  form 

Anticipate  the  bursting  storm ; 

And  by  the  uplifting  of  his  brow 

Tell  where  the  bolt  would  strike,  and  how. 

7.  But  'twas  no  sooner  thought  than  done, 
The  field  was  in  a  moment  won ;  — 

"  Make  way  for  Liberty ! "  he  cried, 

Then  ran  with  arms  extended  wide, 

As  if  his  dearest  friend  to  clasp  ;  — 

Ten  spears  he  swept  within  his  grasp  :  — 

"  Make  way  for  Liberty  1 "  he  cried : 

Their  keen  points  crossed  from  side  to  side  j  — 

He  bowed  amidst  them  like  a  tree, 

And  thus  made  way  for  Liberty. 

8.  Swift  to  the  breach  his  comrades  fly: 
«  Make  way  for  Liberty ! "  they  cry, 
And  through  the  Austrian  phalanx  dart, 

As  rushed  the  spears  through  Arnold's  heart; 
While,  instantaneous  as  his  fall. 
Rout,  ruin,  panic  seized  them  all :  — 
An  earthquake  could  not  overthrow 
A  city  with  a  surer  blow. 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


813 


Thus  Switzerland  again  was  free : 
Thus  death  made  way  for  Liberty ! 


'  Piia'lXnx  (or  phal'anx).  A  body 
of  troops  or  men  in  close  array. 

»  Hor'rent.  Pointed  outwards  like 
bristles ;  bristling. 


3  Ig-no'ble.    Dishonorable  j  base. 
*  In  sOr'c^ent.    Rebellious. 
5  RO  MI  NA'TiQN.     Muslng}    medlts 
tiou:  reflection. 


XCL  — SPEECH   OF  MARULLUS. 

Shakspeaue. 

[William  Shakspeare  was  born  at  Stratford-upon-Avon,  in  England,  April  23, 
15()4,  and  died  April  23,  KUft.  He  married  young,  went  to  London  soon  after  his 
marriage,  became  an  actor,  a  dramatic  autlior,  and  a  shareholder  in  one  of  the 
London  theatres;  acquired  considerable  property,  and  retired  to  his  native 
place  a  few  years  before  his  death,  and  tlicre  lived  in  ease  and  honor.  He  was 
the  author  of  thirty-five  plays,  written  between  151)0  and  1613,  besides  poems 
and  sonnets. 

This  extract  is  taken  from  Julius  Caesar.  A  citizen  tells  Flavins  and  Marul- 
lus.  Tribunes  of  Rome,  that  tlie  rabble  seen  in  the  street  "  make  holiday  to  see 
CsEsar  and  to  rejoice  in  his  triumph."    The  following  is  the  reply  of  Marullus  ' 

Wherefore  rejoice  ?   what  conquest  brings  he  heme  ? 
"What  tributaries  follow  him  to  Rome, 
To  grace  in  captive  bonds  his  chariot  wheels  ? 
You  blocks,  you  stones,  you  worse  than  senseles    /iiings ; 
O,  you  hard  hearts,  you  cruel  men  of  Rome, 
Knew  you  not  Pompey  ?     !Many  a  time  and  oft 
Have  you  climbed  up  to  walls  and  battlements, 
To  towers  and  windows,  yea,  to  chimney-tops, 
Your  infants  in  your  arms,  and  there  have  sat 
The  livelong  day,  with  patient  expectation, 
To  see  great  Pompey  pass  the  streets  of  Rome : 
And  when  you  saw  his  chariot  but  appear, 
Have  you  not  made  a  universal  shout, 
That  Tiber  trembled  underneath  her  banks. 
To  hear  the  replication  *  of  your  sounds, 
Made  in  her  concave  shores  ? 
And  do  you  now  cull  out  a  holiday  ? 
And  do  you  now  strew  flowers  in  his  way, 
That  comes  iij  triumph  over  Pompey's  blood  ? 
27 


814  *  THE   FIFTH   READEE. 

Ee  gone : 

Run  to  your  houses,  fall  upon  your  knees, 
Pray  to  the  gods  to  intermit*  the  plague 
That  needs  must  light  on  this  ingratitude. 

I  Kfip-ii.-CA'TipN.  A  rolling  back  5  re  I  2  iN-TER-MtT'.    Cause  to  cease  for 
verberation.  '        time  j  suspend ;  interrupt. 


CXri.— ELEVATING  INFLUENCE  OF  A  LIBERAL 
EDUCATION. 

Walker. 

[Rev.  James  "Walker,  D.  D.,  a  native  of  Burlington,  Massachusetts,  is  a  grad- 
nate  of  Harvard  College  of  the  class  of  1814.  He  was  pastor  of  a  church  in 
Charlestown,  Massachusetts,  from  1818  to  1839,  when  lie  was  appointed  Alford 
Professor  of  Moral  and  Intellectual  Philosophy  at  Harvard  College,  which  office 
he  held  till  1853,  when  he  was  elected  President.  He  resigned  this  post  in  1860, 
and  has  since  lived  in  Cambridge.  The  following  extract  is  from  an  address 
delivered  by  him  before  the  Alumni  of  Harvard  College,  in  July,  18G3.J 

1.  Time  would  fail  me  to  speak  of  the  eminent  men 
who  have  carried  into  a  long  life  of  public  service  the 
principles  and  the  spirit  inculcated '  here.  I  cannot  speak, 
as  I  would,  even  of  him*  who  has  so  many  titles  to  our 
notice  on  this  occasion,  who  stands  alone  for  his  years,  and 
for  the  veneration  that  is  felt  for  him,  —  chiefly  known  to 
this  generation  as  vhe  honored  head  of  the  university,  but 
long  before  that,  and  long  before  a  large  proportion  of  this 
audience  were  born,  actively  and  earnestly  engaged  in 
matters  of  state  — the  scholar,  the  statesman,  and  the  patriot. 
He  has  lived  to  see  the  best  and  the  worst  days  of  the 
republic,  and  still  lives,  —  may  we  not  hope,  in  order  that 
his  last  look  may  be  on  his  country,  redeemed  and  reno- 
vated' by  the  trials  through  which  it  is  now  passing,  and 
with  every  vestige  of  rebellion  and  bondage  swept  away. 

2.  And  let  no  one  dream  that  public  virtue  and  devo 

*  Josiah  Quincy,  Senior,  a  graduate  of  the  class  of  l^oo. 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  815 

tion  to  country  are  principles  which  are  dying  out  in  thia 
place.  We  have  referred  to  what  the  fathers  did ;  let  us 
now  see  what  the  children  are  doing.  When  the  southern 
insurgents  took  up  arms  against  the  freest  and  best  gov- 
ernment on  earth,  and  it  became  necessary  to  repel  force 
by  force,  the  recent  graduates  of  this  college,  and  some 
who  had  not  yet  graduated,  were  among  the  first  to  obey 
the  call.  More  than  four  hundred  and  fifty  of  our  number 
either  now  are,  or  have  been,  in  the  loyal  service,  making 
a  larger  quota 3,  after  the  proper  deductions  are  made,  than 
any  other  class  of  citizens  has  furnished. 

3.  It  was  presumed  that  their  education  would  be  of 
advantage  to  them,  so  far  as  thought,  and  skill,  and  per- 
sonal influence  were  required ;  but  it  has  been  of  advan- 
tage to  them  in  other  ways.  It  has  given  a  substance  and 
body*  to  their  characters,  which  only  needed  the  inspiration 
of  a  lofty  purpose  in  order  to  become  the  foundation  of 
the  highest  courage,  and  even  of  great  powers  of  physical 
endurance. 

4.  They  went  because  they  were  called.  It  was  not 
military  glory,  nor  political  ambition,  nor  schemes  of  re- 
form which  moved  them,  but  an  inflexible^  purpose  to 
preserve  the  integrity  of  a  great  nation,  and  maintain  the 
supremacy  of  the  laws.  How  they  have  performed  this 
duty  appears  from  the  large  and  constantly  increasing 
number  of  those  who  have  fallen  at  their  posts.  Our 
necrology  ®  for  the  past  year  reveals  the  remarkable  fact 
that  more  than  half  of  the  deaths  have  occurred  in  the 
public  service.  It  has  been  sorrow  and  desolation  to  many 
hearts  and  many  homes ;  but  it  will  make  the  name  ot 
Harvard  dear  to  every  patriot  in  the  land. 

5.  Alas,  that  so  many  young  lives,  the  hope  of  the  coun- 
try, should  be  cut  off  in  their  early  promise  !  But  with 
the  longest  life  what  better,  what  more,  could  they  have 
done  ?     Sooner  or  later  a  monument  will  be  erected  in  iliQ 


316 


THE   FIFTH  READER. 


college  grounds  to  commemorate  their  heroism.  Do  not 
cover  it  over  with  a  glorification  of  our  institutions,  or  of 
our  people,  or  even  with  a  studied  eulogy  on  the  dead : 
thus  to  have  offered  up  their  lives  is  glory  enough.  Write 
on  it  these  few  simple  words :  "  In  memory  of  the  Sons  of 
Harvard  who  died  for  their  Country."  And  there  let  it 
etand,  among  the  good  and  gracious  influences  of  the  place, 
the  best  and  most  gracious  of  them  all. 

6.  There  let  it  stand.  While  your  children,  and  your 
children's  children,  are  here  preparing  themselves  for  life, 
it  will  teach  them  that  the  pursuit  of  pleasure,  the  blandish- 
ments'  of  society,  and  literary  rivalships,  are  poor  things, 
when  compared  with  devotion  to  principle.  There  let  it 
stand.  If  under  the  influence  of  great  material  prosperity, 
or  in  the  hard  competitions  of  the  world,  the  public  heart 
should  again  grow  cold,  and  educated  men  forget  their 
duty,  it  will  still  teach  the  same  lesson.  In  all  coming  time, 
when  the  alumni  ^  of  this  college  revisit,  as  we  do  to-day, 
the  scenes  of  their  early  studies  and  friendships,  the  old 
feeling  will  be  revived,  and  touched  by  the  inspiration  of 
a  noble  example,  they  will  renew  their  vows  to  be  faithful 
to  their  country  and  the  laws. 


1  lN-ctjL'cXT-?D.  Taught  or  enforced 
by  repetition;  impressed  on  the 
mind  by  frequent  admonition. 

I  R£n'<?  YAT-]?D.  Restored  to  the  first 
state ;  made  new  again. 

'  Q.u6'TA.    Proportional  share ;  share 
assigned  to  each  ;  contingent. 
B6D'y.     JJere,  strength  j    solidity  j 
consistency. 


6  iN-FLfix'j-BLE.  That  cannot  be  bent , 

firm ;  unyielding ;  constant. 
«  Ne-cr6i.'9-9Y-     a  list  or  register 
of  deaths ;  a  collection  of  biograph- 
ical notices  of  deceased  persons. 

7  BlXn'dish-mEnts.     Soft  words  or 

caresses ;  kind  treatment. 

8  /i-i,Cm'ni.    Foster  children  ;  gradu- 

ates of  a  college  or  uniyersity. 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  Sl7 

XCIIL  — PALESTINE. 

Whittier. 

[John  Greenleaf  Whittier  wa8  born  in  Haverhill,  Massachusetts,  in  1808,  and 
now  resides  at  Amesbury,  in  the  same  State.  He  is  a  well-known  and  popular 
writer  in  prose  and  verse,  especially  the  latter.  His  poetry  is  distinguished  for 
its  humane  and  generous  spirit,  as  well  as  for  the  fidelity  with  which  it  depicts 
the  scenery  of  New  England  and  the  peculiar  habits  of  its  people.] 

1.  Blest  land  of  Judea!  thrice  hallowed  of  song, 
Where  the  holiest  of  memories,  pilgrim-like,  throng 
In  the  shade  of  thy  palms,  by  the  shores  of  thy  sea, 
On  the  hills  of  thy  beauty  —  my  heart  is  with  thee. 
With  the  eye  of  a  spirit  I  look  on  that  shore. 
Where  pilgrim  and  prophet  have  lingered  before  j 
With  the  glide  of  a  spirit  I  traverse  the  sod 
Made  bright  by  the  steps  of  the  angefs  of  God. 

2.  Blue  sea  of  the  hills !  in  my  spirit  I  hear 
Thy  waters,  Gennesaret  \  chime  on  my  ear ; 

Where  the  Lowly  and  Just  with  the  people  sat  down^ 
And  thy  spray  on  the  dust  of  his  sandals  was  thrown. 
Beyond  are  Bethulia's  ^  mountains  of  green. 
And  the  desolate  hills  of  the  wild  Gadarene  ^ ; 
And  I  pause  on  the  goat-crags  of  Tabor  *  to  see 
The  gleam  of  thy  waters,  O  dark  Galilee ! 

3.  There  sleep  the  still  rocks  and  the  caverns  which  rang 
To  the  song  which  the  beautiful  prophetess  *  sang. 
When  the  princes  of  Issachar  ^  stood  by  her  side. 
And  the  shout  of  a  host  in  its  triumph  replied. 

Lo !  Bethlehem's  *  hill-site  before  me  is  seen. 
With  the  mountains  around  and  the  valleys  between ; 
There  rested  the  shepherds  of  Judah ',  and  there 
The  song  of  the  angels  rose  sweet  on  the  air. 

*  Judges,  chapter  v 

27* 


313 


THE   FIFTH  READER. 


4.  And  Bethany's®  palm-trees  in  beauty  still  throw 
Their  shadows  at  noon  on  the  ruins  below ; 
But  where  are  the  sisters  who  hastened  to  greet 
The  lowly  Redeemer,  and  sit  at  his  feet  ? 
I  tread  where  the  twelve  in  their  wayfaring  trod ; 
I  stand  where  they  stood  with  the  chosen  of  God ; 
Where  his  blessing  was  heard,  and  his  lessons  were 

taught ; 
Where  the  blind  were  restored,  and  the  healing  was 

wrought. 

6.  But  wherefore  this  dream  of  the  earthly  abode 
Of  Humanity  clothed  in  the  brightness  of  God ! 
Were  my  sj^irit  but  turned  from  the  outward  and  dim, 
It  could  gaze,  ,even  now,  on  the  presence  of  Him ! 
Not  in  clouds  and  in  terrors,  but  gentle  as  when 
In  love  and  in  meekness  he  moved  among  men ; 
And  the  voice  which  breathed  peace  to  the  waves  of 

the  sea, 
In  the  hush  of  my  spirit,  would  whisper  to  me. 


I  jS^n-nEs'a-rKt.  a  eea  or  lake  in 
Palestine,  the  borders  of  which,  in 
the  time  of  Christ,  were  covered 
with  numerous  towns  and  villages ; 
called  aUo,  Sea  of  Galilee. 

«  B£tii-v-lI'a  {or  be-thu'lj-?).  A  city 
which  appcars.to  have  overlooked 
the  plain  of  Esdrae'lon,  and  to  have 
guarded  one  of  the  passes  to  Jeru- 
salem. 

I  GXD-A-Rf  ne'.  An  inhabitant  of 
Gad'ara,  a  city  in  a  mountainous 
region  near  the  Sea  of  Galilee. 


4  Ta'bor.  An  isolated  mountain,  of  a 
conical  form,  a  few  miles  south- 
west of  the  Sea  of  Galilee. 

6  Ts'sA -jBHAR.  A  Bon  of  Jacob  and 
Leah  ;  also,  the  tribe  named  after 
him. 

6  BfiTH'LE-HfiM.     A  Celebrated  city 

near  Jerusalem. 

7  Ju'dah.     The  name   of  one  of  the 

tribes  of  Israel,  afterwards  applied 
to  the  whole  nation. 

8  BfiTH'4-Ny.  A  town  near  Jerusalem 

the  residence  cf  Martha  and  Mary. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  319 


XCIV.  — THE  SONa   OF  THE  SHIRT. 

Hood. 

[Thomas  Hood  was  born  in  London  in  1708,  and  died  in  1845.  His  iifo  ^^as 
one  of  severe  toil  and  mucli  suffering,  always  sustained,  however,  with  manly 
resolution  and  a  cheerful  spirit.  He  wrote  much,  both  in  prose  and  verse.  Ho 
was  a  man  of  peculiar  and  original  genius,  which  manifested  itself  with  eq.ual 
power  and  ease  in  humor  and  pathos. 

The  following  remarkable  piece  of  poetry  appeared  in  the  London  Punch 
only  a  short  time  before  the  death  of  the  lamented  author.  It  was  written  at  a 
time  when  the  attention  of  benevolent  persons  in  London  had  been  awakened 
to  the  inadequate  wages  paid  to  poor  needlewomen,  and  their  consequent  dis- 
tress ;  and  from  the  seasonableness  of  its  appearance,  as  well  as  its  high  liter- 
ary merit,  it  produced  a  great  effect.  It  is  valuable,  as  an  expression  of  that 
deep  and  impassioned  sympathy  with  suffering,  which  was  a  leading  trait  in 
Hood's  nature,  and  forms  an  attractive  element  in  his  writings.] 

1.  With  fingers  weary  and  worn, 

With  eyelids  heavy  and  red, 
A  woman  sat,  in  unwomanly  rags, 

Plying  her  needle  and  thread  — 
Stitch  —  stitch  —  stitch  ! 

In  poverty,  hunger,  and  dirt. 
And  still,  with  a  voice  of  dolorous^  pitch, 

She  sang  the  "Song  of  the  Shirt!" 

2.  "Work  —  work  —  work! 

While  the  cock  is  crowing  alooP ! 
And  work  —  work  —  work  ! 

Till  the  stars  shine  through  the  roof  I 
It's  O,  to  be  a  slave 

Along  with  the  barbarous  Turk, 
Where  woman  has  never  a  soul  to  save, 

If  THIS  is  Christian  work 

3.  "  Work  —  work  —  work  ! 

Till  the  brain  begins  to  swim ; 
Work  —  work — work ! 

Till  the  eyes  are  heavy  and  dim! 


820  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

Seam,  and  .gusset,  and  band, 
Band,  and  gusset,  and  seam, 

Till  over  the  buttons  I  fall  asleep, 
And  sew  them  on  in  my  dream. 

4    "  0  men  with  sisters  dear ! 

O  men  with  mothers  and  wives! 
It  is  not  linen  you're  wearing  out, 

But  human  creatures'  lives ! 

Stitch  —  stitch  —  stitch ! 

In  poverty,  hunger,  and  dirt, 
Sewing  at  once,  with  a  double  thread, 

A  SHROUD  as  well  as  a  shirt ! 

6.   «  But  why  do  I  talk  of  death, 

That  phantom  of  grisly  bone  ? 

I  hardly  fear  his  terrible  shape, 
It  seems  so  like  my  own  — 
It  seems  so  like  my  own. 
Because  of  the  fast  I  keep : 

O  God!  that  bread  should  be  so  dear, 
And  flesh  ^and  blood  so  cheap ! 

6.  "  Work  —  work  —  work ! 

My  labor  never  flags ; 
And  what  are  its  wages  ?   A  bed  of  straw, 

A  crust  of  bread  —  and  rajrs : 
A  shattered  roof —  and  this  naked  floor  — 

A  table  —  a  broken  chair  — 
And  a  wall  so  blank  my  shadow  I  thank 

For  sometimes  falling  there ! 

7.  "Work  —  work  —  work! 

From  weary  chime  to  chime ; 
Work  —  work  —  work ! 
As  prisoners  work  for  crime  ! 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  |  321 

Band,  and  gusset,  and  seam, 

Seam,  and  gusset,  and  band, 
Till  the  heart  is  sick  and  the  brain  benumbed', 

As  well  as  the  weary  hand  ! 

8.  "  Work  —  work  —  work  ! 

In  the  dull  December  light ; 
And  work  —  work  —  work  ! 

When  the  weather  is  warm  and  bright ; 
While  underneath  the  eaves 

The  brooding  swallows  cling. 
As  if  to  show  me  their  sunny  backs, 

And  twit  me  with  the  spring. 

9.  "  O,  but  to  breathe  the  breath 

Of  the  cowslip  and  primrose  sweet, 
With  the  sky  above  my  head, 

And  the  grass  beneath  my  feet ! 
For  only  one  short  hour 

To  feel  as  I  used  to  feel. 
Before  I  knew  the  woes  of  want, 

And  the  walk  that  costs^a  meal  1 

10.  "  O,  but  for  one  short  hour ! 

A  respite*,  however  brief! 
'No  blessed  leisure  for  love  or  hope, 

But  only  time  for  grief! 
A  little  weeping  would  ease  my  heart  — 

But  in  their  briny  bed 
My  tears  must  stop,  for  every  drop 

Hinders  needle  and  thread ! " 

11.  With  fingers  weary  and  worn, 

With  eyelids  heavy  and  red, 
A  woman  sat,  in  unwomanly  rags. 
Plying  her  needle  and  thread  — 


•322  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

Stitch  *—  stitch  —  stitch  — 
,  In  poverty,  hunger,  and  dirt, 

And  still,  with  a  voice  of  dolorous  pitch,  — 
"Would  that  its  tone  could  reach  the  rich  !  — 
She  sang  this  "  Song  of  the  Shirt ! " 

I  DSli'p-ROOs.    Sorrowful  J  painful.      I  3  Be-nDmbed'.    Made  toJpid. 

e  ^-L.6de'.    At  a  distance  j  apart.         I  *  I1£s'p|te.     Delay  j  pause ;  Interval 


XCV.  — A  CURTAIN  LECTURE  OF  MRS.  CAUDLE. 

Jekrold. 

[Douglas  William  Jerrold  was  born  in  London  in  1803,  and  died  in  1857.  Tie 
was  first  a  midsliipman  in  the  navy,  then  a  printer,  and  lastly,  a  man  of  letters 
by  profession.  His  "  Caudle  Lectures  "  were  published  in  the  London  Punch, 
and  extensively  read  in  England  and  America.] 

1.  Bah!  that's  the  third  umbrella  gone  since  Christmas. 
—  What  were  you  to  do  ?  Why,  let  him  go  home  in  the 
rain,  to  be  sure.  I'm  very  certain  there  was  nothing  about 
him  that  could  spoil. — Take  cold,  indeed!  lie  doesn't 
look  like  one  of  the  sort  to  take  cold.  Besides,  he'd  have 
better  taken  cold  than  taken  our  umbrella.  —  Do  you  hear 
the  rain,  Mr.  Caudle  ?  I  say,  do  you  hear  the  rain  ?  And, 
as  I'm  alive,  if  it  isn't  St.  Swithin's  day !  *  Do  you  hear 
it  against  the  window? 

2.  Nonsense :  you  don't  impose  upon  me  ;  you  can't  be 
asleep  with  such  a  shower  as  that !  Do  you  hear  it,  I  say  ? 
O,  you  do  hear  it !  —  Well,  that's  a  pretty  flood,  I  think, 
to  last  for  six  weeks ;  and  no  stirring  all  the  time  out  of 
the  house.  Pooh!  don't  think  me  a  fool,  Mr.  Caudle; 
don't  insult  me !  he  return  the  umbrella !  Any  body 
would  think  you  were  born  yesterday.  As  if  any  body 
ever  did  return  an  umbrella  ! 

*  There  is  an  old  superstition  in  England  that  if  it  rains  on  St.  Swithin'a 
day  (15th  July),  not  one  of  the  next  forty  days  wiU  be  wholly  without  rain. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  323 

3.  There :  do  you  hear  it  ?  Worse  and  worse.  Cats 
and  dogs,  and  for  six  weeks :  always  six  weeks ;  and  no 
umbrella  !  I  should  like  to  know  how  the  children  are  to 
go  to  school  to-morrow.  They  shan't  go  through  such 
weather ;  I  am  determined.  No ;  they  shall  stop  at  home, 
and  never  learn  any  thing,  the  blessed  creatures !  sooner 
than  go  and  get  wet !  And  when  they  grow  up,  I  wonder 
who  they'll  have  to  thank  for  knowing  nothing ;  who,  in- 
deed, but  their  father!  People  who  can't  feel  for  their 
own  children  ought  never  to  be  fatliers. 

4.  But  I  know  why  you  lent  the  umbi-ella :  O,  yes,  I 
know  very  well.  I  was  going  out  to  tea  at  dear  mother's 
to-morrow :  you  knew  that,  and  you  did  it  on  purpose. 
Don't  tell  me ;  you  hate  to  have  me  go  there,  and  take 
every  mean  advantage  to  hinder  me.  But  don't  you  think 
it,  Mr.  Caudle ;  no,  sir :  if  it  comes  down  in  buckets'  full, 
I'll  go  all  the  more. 

5.  No ;  and  I  won't  have  a  cab !  *  Where  €o  you  think 
the  money's  to  come  from?  You've  got  nice  high  notions 
at  that  club  of  yours  ?  A  cab,  indeed !  Cost  me  sixteen- 
pence,  at  least :  sixteen-pence  !  two-and-eight-pence  ;  for 
there's  back  again.  Cabs,  indeed!  I  should  like  to  know 
who's  to  pay  for  'em ;  for  I'm  sure  you  can't,  if  you  go  on 
as  you  do,  throwing  away  your  property,  and  beggaring 
your  children,  buying  umbrellas  ! 

6.  Do  you  hear  the  rain,  Mr.  Caudle  ?  I  say,  do  you 
hear  it  ?  But  I  don't  care ;  I'll  go  to  mother's  to-mor- 
row —  I  will ;  and  what's  more,  I'll  walk  every  step  of  the 
way;  and  you  know  that  will  give  me  my  death.  —  Don't 
call  me  a  foolish  woman ;  it's  you  that's  the  foolish  man. 
You  know  I  can't  wear  clogs'^;  and  with  no  umbrella, 
the  wet's  sure  to  give  me  a  cold  —  it  always  does.  But 
what  do  you  care  for  that  ?  Nothing  at  all.  I  may  be 
laid  up  for  all  you  care,  as  I  dare  say  I  shall ;  and  a  pretty 
doctor's  bill  there'll  be.    I  hope  there  wiU.    It  will  teach 


324  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

you  to  lend  your  umbrellas  again.  I  shouldn't  wonder  If 
1  caught  my  death:  yes,  and  that's  what  yoa  lent  the 
umbrella  for.     Of  course ! 

7.  Nice  clothes  I  get,  too,  traipsing'  through  weather 
like  this !  My  gown  and  bonnet  will  be  spoiled  quite.  — « 
I  needn't  wear  'em  then.  Indeed,  Mr.  Caudle,  I  shall 
wear  'em.  No,  sir ;  I  am  not  going  out  a  dowdy  to  please 
you  or  any  body  else.  Gracious  knows !  it  isn't  often  that  1 
step  over  the  threshold ;  indeed,  I  might  as  well  be  a 
slave  at  once :  better,  I  should  say ;  but  when  I  do  go  out, 
Mr.  Caudle,  I  choose  to  go  as  a  lady.  O,  that  rain !  if 
it  isn't  enough  to  break  in  the  windows. 

8.  Ugh !  I  look  forward  with  dread  to  to-morrow ! 
How  I  am  to  go  to  mother's,  I  am  sure  I  can't  tell,  but  if 
I  die,  I'll  do  it.  — No,  sir;  I  won't  borrow  an  umbrella: 
no ;  and  you  shan't  buy  one.  ( With  great  emphasis.) 
Mr.  Caudle,  if  you  bring  home  another  umbrella,  I'll  throw 
it  into  the  street. 

9.  Ha !  and  it  was  only  last  week  I  had  a  new  nozzle  put 
to  that  umbrella.  I'm  sure  if  I'd  have  known  as  much  as 
I  do  now,  it  might  have  gone  without  one.  Paying  for 
new  nozzles  for  other  people  to  laugh  at  you  !  O,  it's  all 
very  well  for  you;  you  can  go  to  sleep.  You've  no 
thought  of  your  poor  patient  wife,  and  your  own  dear 
children ;  you  think  of  nothing  but  lending  umbrellas ! 

10.  Men,  indeed !  Call  themselves  lords  of  the  crea- 
tion !  pretty  lords,  when  they  can't  even  take  care  of  an 
umbrella ! 

11.  I  know  that  walk  to-morrow  w^ill  be  the  death  of 
me,  but  that's  what  you  want :  then  you  may  go  to  your 
club,  and  do  as  you  like ;  and  then  nicely  ray  poor  dear 
children  will  be  used ;  but  then,  sir,  then  you'll  be  happy. 
' —  O,  don't  tell  me  !  I  know  you  will :  else  you'd  never 
have  lent  the  umbrella  \ 

12;   The  children,  dear  things !  they'll  be  sopping  wet  j 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  825 

for  they  shan't  stay  at  home;  they  shan't  lose  their  learn- 
ing ;  it's  all  their  father  will  leave  them,  I'm  sure.  —  But 
they  shall  go  to  school.  Don't  tell  me  they  needn't: 
you  are  so  aggravating"*,  Caudle,  you'd  spoil  the  temper  of 
an  angel ;  they  shall  go  to  school !  mark  that :  and  if  they 
get  their  deaths  of  cold,  it's  not  my  fault ;  I  didn't  lend 
the  umbrella. 

13.  "Here,"  says  Caudle,  in  his  manuscript,  "I  fell 
asleep,  and  dreamed  that  the  sky  was  turned  into  green 
calico,  with  whalebone  ribs  :  that,  in  fact,  the  whole  world 
revolved  under  a  tremendous  umbrella ! " 

1  CXb.  a  kind  of  carriag-e,  with  two  I  3  Traips'ing.  A  colloquial  or  lo\f 
or   four   wheels,   drawn   by   one  word,  meaning,  running  about  idly 

horse.  '        or  carelessly. 

«  Cl6gs,  a  kind  of  overshoes,  worn  *  Ag'g  ra-vat-ing. Making  worse  ;aZsc 
to  keep  the  feet  dry.  I         colloquially,  provoking ;  irritating. 


XCVL  — BERNARDO  DEL  CARPIO. 

Mrs.  Hemaxs. 

[The  celebrated  Spanish  champion,  Bernardo  del  Carpio,  having  made  many 
ineffectual  efforts  to  procure  the  release  of  his  father,  the  Count  Saldana,  who 
had  been  imprisoned  by  King  Alfonso  of  Asturias,  at  last  took  up  arms  in 
despair.  The  war  which  he  maintained  proved  so  destructive  that  the  men  of 
the  land  gathered  round  the  king,  and  united  in  demanding  Saldana's  liberty. 
Alfonso,  accordingly,  offered  Bernardo  immediate  possession  of  his  father's 
person  in  exchange  for  his  castle  of  Carpio.  Bernardo,  without  hesitation, 
gave  up  his  stronghold,  with  all  his  captives,  and  being  assured  that  his  father, 
was  then  on  his  way  from  prison,  rode  forth  with  the  king  to  meet  him.  "And 
when  he  saw  his  father  approaching,  he  exclaimed,"  says  the  ancient  chronicle(, 
."  O  God !  is  the  Count  of  Saldana  indeed  coming?  "  "  Look  where  he  is,"  re- 
plied tlie  cruel  king ;  "  and  now  go  and  greet  him  whom  you  have  so  long 
desired  to  see."  The  remainder  of  the  story  will  be  found  related  in  the  ballad. 
The  chronicles  and  romances  leave  us  nearly  in  the  dark  *^s  to  Bernardo's  history 
after  this  event.] 

1. 

The  warrior  bowed  his  crested  head,  and  tamed  his  heart  of  fire, 

And  sued  the  haughty  king  to  free  his  long  imprisoned  sire  : 

"  I  bring  thee  here  my  fortress  keys,  I  bring  my  captive  traiii ; 

I  pledge  my  faith,  my  liege* :  my  lord,  O,  break  my  father's  chaii?  J** 

28 


THE  FIFTH  READER. 

3. 

«« Rise,  rise  !  even  now  thy  father  comes,  a  ransomed'  man  this  day  ^ 
Mount  thy  good  horse,  and  thou  and  I  will  meet  him  on  his  way." 
Then  lightly  rose  that  loyal  son,  and  bounded  on  his  steed. 
And  urged,  as  if  with  lance  in  rest,  the  charger's  ^  foamy  speed. 

3. 

And,  lo  !  from  far,  as  on  they  pressed,  there  came  a  glittering  hand, 
With  one  that  'midst  them  stately  rode,  as  a  leader  in  the  land. 
*•  Now  haste,  Bernardo,  haste  !  for  there,  in  very  truth,  is  he. 
The  father,  whom  thy  faithful  heart  hath  yearned  *  so  long  to  see." 

4. 

His  dark  eye  flashed,  his  proud  breast  heaved,  his  cheeks'  hue  came 
and  went ;  [bent ; 

He  reached  that  gray-haired  chieftain's  side,  and,  there  dismounting, 
A  lowly  knee  to  earth  he  bent,  his  fother's  hand  he  took  — 
What  was  there  in  its  touch  that  all  his  fiery  spirit  shook  ? 

5. 
That  hand  was  cold  !  a  frozen  thing !  —  it  dropped  from  his  like  lead : 
He  looked  up  to  the  face  above  —  the  face  was  of  the  dead ! 
A  plume  waved  o'er  the  noble  brow  —  the  brow  was  fixed  and  white  ! 
He  met,  at  length,  his  father's  eyes  —  but  in  them  was  no  sight ! 


Up  from  the  ground  he  sprang,  and  gazed ;  but  who  could  paint  that  gaze ! 
They  hushed  their  very  hearts,  that  saw  its  horror  and  amaze : 
They  might  have  chained  him,  as  before  that  stony  form  he  stood  ; 
For  the  power  was  stricken  from  his  arm,  and  from  his  lip  the  blood. 

7. 
"  Father  !  "  at  length  he  murmured  low,  and  wept  like  childhood  then — 
Talk  not  of  grief  till  thou  hast  seen  the  tears  of  warlilce  men !  — 
He  thought  on  all  his  glorious  hopes,  on  all  his  young  renown  ; 
Then  flung  his  falchion  from  his  side,  and  in  the  dust  sat  down  ; 


And  covering  with  his  steel-gloved  hands  his  darkly  mournful  brow, 
*'  No  more,  there  is  no  more,"  he  said,  "  to  lift  the  sword  for  now  : 
My  king  is  false  !  my  hope  betrayed  !  ray  father  —  O,  the  worth, 
The  glory,  and  the  loveliness  are  passed  away  from  earth  !  " 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


327 


9. 
Then  from  the  ground  he  sprang  once  more,  and  seized  the  monarch's  rein, 
Amidst  the  pale  and  wildered  looks  of  all  the  courtier  train  ; 
And  with  a  fierce,  o'ermastering  grasp,  the  rearing  war-horse  led, 
And  sternly  set  them  face  to  face  —  the  king  before  the  dead  ! 

10. 
*«  Came  I  not  forth,  upon  thy  pledge,  my  father's  hand  to  kiss  ? 
Be  still,  and  gaze  thou  on,  false  king  !  and  tell  me,  what  is  this  ? 
The  voice,  the  glance,  the  heart  I  sought  —  give  answer,  where  are  they  ? 
If  thou  wouJdst  clear  thy  perjured^  soul,  send  life  through  this  cold  clay  ! 

11. 
♦♦  Into  these  glassy  eyes  put  light  —  be  still !  keep  down  thine  ire ; 
Bid  these  white  lips  a  blessing  speak  —  this  earth  is  not  my  sire  ! 
Give  me  back  him  for  whom  I  strove,  for  whom  my  blood  was  shed  — 
Thou  canst  not  ?  —  and  a  king  !  — his  dust  be  mountains  on  thy  head  !  " 

12. 
He  loosed  the  steed  —  his  slack  hand  fell ;  —  upon  the  silent  face 
He  cast  one  long,  deep,  troubled  look,  then  turned  from  that  sad  place ; 
His  hope  was  crushed,  his  after-fate  untold  in  martial  strain  ; 
His  banner  led  the  spears  no  more  amidst  the  lulls  of  Spain  ! 


1  LiE^'E.    Sovereign. 

t  RXn'sqmed.  Redeemed  from  cap- 
tivity of  imprisonment  by  the  pay- 
ment of  a  ransom  or  price. 


»  ChXr^'er.    a  war-horse. 
<  Yearned.  Desired  earnestly;  longed. 
6  PfiR'jVRED.    Guilty  of  taking  a  false 
oath. 


XCVIL— CLAKENCE'S  DKEAM. 

Shakspeare. 

[The  following  lesson  is  taken  from  the  tragedy  of  "  Richard  III."  The 
ecene  occurs  in  an  apartment  in  the  Tower  of  London,  between  George,  Duke 
of  Clarence,  brother  of  Richard,  Duke  of  Glostcr  (afterwards  Richard  III.),  and 
Sir  Robert  Brakenbury,  keeper  of  the  Tower.] 


Scene  IV. 


An  Apartment  in  the  Tower. 

BURY. 


Enter  Clarence  and  Bkakex- 


Brakenhury.    "Why  looks  your  Grace  so  heavily '  to-day  ? 
Clarence.    O,  I  have  passed  a  miserable  night, 
So  full  of  feai-ful  dreams,  of  ugly  sights, 


S28  .     THE   FIFTH   HEADER. 

That,  as  I  am  a  Christian  faithful  man, 
I  would  not  spend  another  such  a  nighty 
Though  'twere  to  buy  a  world  of  happy  days ; 
So  full  of  dismal  terror  was  the  time. 

£rdk.    What  was  your  dream,  my  lord  ?    I  pray  you 
tell  me. 

Clar.    Methought  that  I  had  broken  from  the  Tower,* 
And  was  embarked  to  cross  to  Burgundy ;  t 
And,  in  my  company,  my  brother  Gloster, 
Who  from  ray  cabin  tempted  me  to  walk 
Upon  the  hatches  ;  thence  we  looked  toward  England, 
And  cited  up  *  a  thousand  heavy  times. 
During  the  wars  of  York  and  Lancaster, 
That  had  befallen  us.     As  we  paced  along 
Upon  the  giddy  footing  of  the  hatches, 
Methought  that  Gloster  stumbled,  and,  in  falling, 
Struck  me,  that  thought  to  stay  him,  overboard 
Into  the  tumbling  billows  of  the  main. 
O  Lord,  methought,  what  pain  it  was  to  drown ! 
What  dreadful  noise  of  water  in  mine  ears ! 
What  sights  of  ugly  death  within  mine  eyes ! 
Methought  I  saw  a  thousand  fearful  wrecks ; 
A  thousand  men,  that  fishes  gnawed  upon ; 
Wedges  of  gold,  great  anchors,  heaps  of  pearl, 
Inestimable  stones,  unvalued  jewels. 
All  scattered  in  the  bottom  of  the  sea : 
Some  lay  in  dead  men's  skulls  ;  and  in  those  holes 
Where  eyes  did  once  inhabit,  there  were  crept 
(As  'twere  in  scorn  of  eyes)  reflecting  gems, 
That  wooed  the  slimy  bottom  of  the  deep. 
And  mocked  the  dead  bones  that  lay  scattered  by. 

JBrdk.    Had  you  such  leisure,  in  the  time  of  death, 
To  gaze  upon  these  secrets  of  the  deep  ? 

*  The  Tower  of  London  is  an  assemblage  of  buildings  on  the  north  bank  of 
the  Thames,  formerly  used  as  a  state  prison.  .-^ 

t  Bl'R'GVN-Dy.    A  province  in  the  northern  part  of  Francie. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  329 

Clar.   Methought  I  had :  and  often  did  I  strive 
To  yield  the  ghost ;  but  still  the  envious  flood 
Stopped  in  my  soul,  and  would  not  let  it  forth 
To  seek  the  empty,  vast,  and  wandering  air; 
But  smothered  it  within  my  panting  bulk, 
Which  almost  burst  to  belch  ^  it  in  the  sea. 

JBraJc,    Awaked  you  not  with  this  sore  agony? 

Clar.    O,  no,  my  dream  was  lengthened  after  life ; 
O,  then  began  the  tempest  to  my  soul ! 
I  passed,  methought,  the  melancholy  flood, 
With  that  grim  ferryman*  which  poets  write  of, 
Unto  the  kingdom  of  perpetual  night. 
The  first  that  there  did  greet  my  stranger  soul, 
Was  my  great  father-in-law,  renowned  Warwick ; 
Who  cried  aloud,  "  What  scourge  for  perjury 
Can  this  dark  monarchy  afibrd  false  Clarence  ?  " 
And  so  he  vanished.     Then  came  wandering  by 
A  shadow  like  an  angel,  with  bright  hair 
Dabbled  in  blood  ;  and  he  shrieked  out  aloud, 
"Clarence  is  come!  —  false,  fleeting*,  perjured  Clarence  — 
That  stabbed  me  in  the  field  by  Tewkesbury : 
Seize  on  him.  Furies!   take  him  to  your  torments  I"  — 
With  that,  methought,  a  legion  of  foul  fiends 
Environed '"  me,  and  howled  in  mine  ears 
Such  hideous  cries,  that,  with  the  very  noise, 
I  trembling  waked,  and,  for  a  season  after. 
Could  not  believe  but  that  I  was  in  Hell : 
Such  terrible  impression  made  my  dream. 

Jjrak,    No  marvel  ^,  lord,  though  it  affi'ighted  you  j 
I  am  afraid,  methinks,  to  hear  you  tell  it. 

Clar.    Ah,  Keeper,  Keeper !  I  have  done  these  things, 
That  now  give  evidence  against  my  soul,  — 

*  The  shades  of  the  dead  were  believed,  by  the  ancient  heathen,  to  be  coa. 
voyed  across  the  rivers  of  the  lower  world  by  a  ferryman  whom  they  named 
Cliaron. 

28* 


330 


THE   FIFTH  READER. 


For  Edward's  sake ;  and,  see,  how  he  requites '  me  ! 

0  God  !  if  my  deep  prayers  cannot  appease  Thee, 
But  Thou  wilt  be  avenged  on  my  misdeeds, 

Yet  execute^  Thy  wrath  on  me  alone: 

O,  spare  my  guiltless  wife,  and  my  poor  children ! 

1  pray  thee,  gentle  keeper,  stay  by  me  ; 
My  soul  is  heavy,  and  I  fain  would  sleep. 

Brak,    I  will,  my  lord ;  God  give  your  Grace  good  rest. 


1  flfiAV'j-LY.    Dejectedly  ;  g-Iooraily. 
8  Cit'ed  Cp.     Called  up  ;  mentioned. 
»  B£Lcn.    Throw  out ;  eject. 
»  Fleet' |NG.     l?ere,  changing  sides 
Irequently. 


6  5n-vi'r<?ned.   Surrounded  j  encom- 

passed. 
»  MXr'vel.    Wonder. 

7  Ke-quItes'.    Repays  ;  rewards. 

8  Ex'35-cuTE.    Effect ;  perform. 


XCVIIL  — DUTY  OF  AMERICAN  CITIZENS. 

Douglas. 

{Stephen  Arnold  Douglas  was  bom  in  Brandon,  Vermont,  April  13,  1813,  and 
died  June  3, 1861.  At  the  age  of  twenty  he  removed  to  Illinois,  and  was  soon 
after  admitted  to  the  baj .  In  1832  he  was  elected  state  attorney,  and  from  that 
time  till  his  death  he  was  constantly  in  the  public  service,  — being,  in  succes- 
Bion,  state  attorney,  member  of  the  legislature,  secretary  of  state,  and  judge  of 
the  Supreme  Court  of  IBinois  ;  registrar  of  the  land  office  of  the  United  States, 
member  of  the  House  of  Kepresentatives,  and  member  of  the  Senate.  He  was* 
a  man  of  great  energy,  ability,  and  self-reliance.  The  following  extract  is  from 
a  epeech  delivered  by  hijpa  at  Chicago,  Illinois,  June  1, 1801.] 

1.  But  this  is  no  time  for  a  detail  of  causes.  The  con- 
spiracy *  is  now  known.  Armies  have  been  raised,  war  is 
levied  *  to  accomplish  it.  There  are  only  two  sides  to  the 
question.  Every  man  must  be  for  the  United  States  or 
against  it.  There  can  be  no  neutrals  in  this  war:  only 
patriots  or  —  traitors. 

2.  We  cannot  close  our  eyes  to  the  sad  and  solemn  fact 
that  war  does  exist.  The  government  must  be  maintained, 
its  enemies  overthrown;  and  the  more  stupendous  our 
preparations  the  less  the  bloodshed,  and  the  shorter  the 
struggle  will  be.  But  we  must  remember  certain  restraints 
on  our  action  even  in  time  of  war.     We  are  a  Christian 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  331 

people,  and  the  war  must  be  prosecuted  ^  in  a  manner  re- 
cognized by  Christian  nations. 

3.  We  must  not  invade  constitutional  rights.  The  in- 
nocent must  not  suffer,  nor  women  and  children  be  the 
victims.  Savages  must  not  be  let  loose.  But  while  I 
sanction*  no  war  on  the  rights  of  others,!  will  implore  my 
countrymen  not  to  lay  down  their  arms  until  our  own 
rights  are  recoo'nized. 

4.  The  constitution  and  its  guarantees  are  our  birth, 
right,  and  I  am  ready  to  enforce  that  inalienable  riglit  to 
the  last  extent.  We  cannot  recognize  secession.  Recog- 
nize it  once,  and  you  have  not  only  dissolved  government, 
but  you  have  destroyed  social  order,  and  upturned  tlie 
foundations  of  society.  You  have  inaugurated  anarchy 
in  its  worst  form,  and  will  shortly  experience  all  the  hor- 
rors of  the  French  Revolution. 

5.  Then  we  have  a  solemn  duty,  — to  maintain  the  gov- 
ernment. The  greater  our  unanimity^,  the  speedier  the  day 
of  peace.  We  have  prejudices  to  overcome  from  a  fierce 
party  contest  waged  a  few  short  months  since.  Yet  these 
must  be  allayed.  Let  us  lay  aside  all  criminations  *  and  re- 
criminations as  to  the  origin  of  these  difficulties.  When 
we  shall  have  again  a  country,  with  the  United  States  flag 
floating  over  it,  and  respected  on  every  inch  of  American 
soil,  —  it  will  then  be  time  enough  to  ask  who  and  what 
brought  all  this  upon  us. 

6.  I  have  said  more  than  I  intended  to  say.  It  is  a  sad 
task  to  discuss  questions  so  fearful  as  civil  war :  but  sad  as  it 
is,  bloody  and  disastrous  as  I  expect  the  war  will  be,  I  express 
it  as  my  conviction,  before  God,  that  it  is  the  duty  of  every 
American  citizen  to  rally  round  the  flag  of  his  country'-. 


1  Co?r-splR.'A-cy.    A  combination   of 

persons  for  an  evil  purpose  j  a  plot 
against  a  government. 

2  Lfiv'iED.    Raised;  begun. 

8  Pr6s'e-cut-:ed.       Continued;    cur- 


i  SXnc'tiqn  (sangk'-).  Give  validity 
or  authority  to;  justify;  approve. 

5  tJ-NA-NlM'i-TY.  State  of  being  of  One 
mind ;  agreement  in  opinion. 

0  CRlM-i-NA'Tiprr.  Accusation ;  chargo 


ried  on.  I        of  crime  or  ■wron'?- 


332         "  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

XCIX.  — LIBERTY  AND   UNION. 

"Webster. 

[The  following^  piece  is  from  a  speech  delivered  in  the  Senate  of  the  United 
States,  in  January,  1830,  in  reply  to  Mr.  Playne  of  South  Carolina.] 

1.  Mr.  President  :  I  have  thus  stated  the  reasons  of  my 
•dissent  to  the  doctrines  which  have  been  advanced  and 
maintained.  I  am  conscious  of  having  detained  you  and 
the  Senate  much  too  long.  I  was  drawn  into  the  debate, 
with  no  previous  deliberation,  such  as  is  suited  to  the  dis- 
cussion of  so  grave  and  important  a  subject.  Bat  it  is  a 
eubject  of  which  my  heart  is  full,  and  I  have  not  been 
willing  to  suppress  the  utterance  of  its  spontaneous  senti- 
ments. 

2.  I  cannot,  even  now,  persuade  myself  to  relinquish  it, 
without  expressing,  once  more,  my  deep  conviction,  that, 
since  it  respects  nothing  less  than  the  Union  of  the  States, 
it  is  of  most  vital  and  essential  importance  to  the  public 
happiness.  I  profess,  sir,  in  my  career  hitherto,  to  have 
kept  steadily  in  view  the  prosperity  and  honor  of  the 
whole  country,  and  the  preservation  of  our  Federal  Union. 
It  is  to  that  Union  we  owe  our  safety  at  home,  and  our 
consideration  and  dignity  abroad.  It  is  to  that  Union  that 
we  are  chiefly  indebted  for  whatever  makes  us  most  proud 
of  our  country.  That  Union  we  reached  only  by  the  disci- 
pline of  our  virtues  in  the  severe  school  of  adversity. 

8.  It  had  its  origin  in  the  necessities  of  disordered 
finance  \  prostrate  commerce,  and  ruined  credit.  Under 
its  benign''  influences,  these  great  interests  immediately 
awoke,  as  from  the  dead,  and  sprang  forth  with  newness 
of  life.  Every  year  of  its  duration  has  teemed  with  fresh 
proofs  of  its  utility  and  its  blessings;  and,  although  our 
territory  has  stretched  out  wider  and  wider,  and  our  popu- 
lation spread  farther  and  farther,  they  have  not  outrun  its 


THE   FIFTH  READER.  333 

protection  or  its  benefits.     It  has  been  to  us  all  a  copious 
fountain  of  national,  social,  personal  happiness. 

4.  I  have  not  allowed  myself,  sir,  to  look  beyond  the 
Union,  to  see  what  might  lie  hidden  in  the  dark  recess' 
behind.  I  have  not  coolly  weighed  the  chances  of  pre- 
serving hberty,  when  the  bonds  that  unite  us  together 
shall  be  broken  asunder.  I  have  not  accustomed  myself  to 
hang  over  the  precipice  of  disunion,  to  see  whether,  with 
my  short  sight,  I  can  fathom  the  depth  of  the  abyss  below  5 
nor  could  I  regard  him  as  a  safe  counsellor  in  the  affairs 
of  this  government,  whose  thoughts  should  be  mainly  bent 
on  considering,  not  how  the  Union  might  be  best  pre- 
served, but  how  tolerable  might  be  the  condition  of  the 
l^eople  when  it  shall  be  broken  up  and  destroyed. 

5.  While  the  Union  lasts,  we  have  high,  exciting,  grati- 
fying prospects  spread  out  before  us,  for  us  and  our  chil- 
dren. Beyond  that  I  seek  not  to  penetrate  the  veil.  God 
grant,  that,  in  my  day  at  least,  that  curtain  may  not  rise ! 
God  grant  that  on  my  vision  never  may  be  opened  what 
lies  behind !  When  my  eyes  shall  be  turned  to  behold,  for 
the  last  time,  the  sun  in  heaven,  may  I  not  see  him  shin- 
ing on  the  broken  and  dishonored  fragments  of  a  once 
glorious  Union  ;  on  States  dissevered,  discordant,  bellig- 
erent * ;  on  a  land  rent  with  civil  feuds,  or  drenched,  it  may 
be,  in  fraternal  *  blood ! 

6.  Let  their  last  feeble  and  lingering  glance, rather,  behold 
the  gorgeous  ^  ensign '''  of  the  Republic,  now  known  and 
honored  throughout  the  earth,  still  full  high  advanced, 
its  arms  and  trophies  streaming  in  their  original  lustre,  not 
a  stripe  erased  ^  or  polluted,  nor  a  single  star  obscured,  — 
bearing  for  its  motto,  no  such  miserable  interrogatory  ^  as 
"What  is  all  this  worth?"  nor  those  other  words  of  de- 
lusion and  folly,  "  Liberty  first,  and  Union  afterwards,"  — 
but  every  where,  spread  all  over  in  characters  of  living 
light,  blazing  on  its  ample  folds,  as  they  float  over  the  sea 


334 


THE   FIFTH   RExiDER. 


and  over  the  land,  and  in  every  wind  under  the  whole 
heavens,  that  other  sentiment,  dear  to  every  true  American 
heart,  —  Liberty  and  Union,  now  and  forever^  one  and 

INSEPARABLE ! 


1  Fj-nAnce'.   Public  revenue  of  a  gov- 

ernment ;  income  or  means. 

2  BE-NiGN'.    Kind  ;  favorable. 

*  Re-cEss'.     a  niche  or  space  formed 

by  the  receding  of  the  wall  of  a 
room. 

♦  BEL-Llfjt'ER-fiNT.    Engaged  in  war ; 

carrying  on  war. 


5  Fra-ter'nal.    Belonging  to  broth- 

ers ;  brotherly. 

6  GoR'(5^EOVS(-j^s).  Splendid;  showy} 

magnificent. 

7  En'sIgn.    The  national  flag. 

8  5-rased'.    Effaced;   scratched  out, 

or  rubbed  out. 

9  In-ter-rog'^-tq-ry.    Questiou. 


C  — SOLILOQUY  OF  THE  DYING  ALCHEMIST. 

Willis. 

1.  The  night  wind  with  a  desolate  moan  swept  by; 
And  the  old  shutters  of  the  turret  swung, 
Screaming  upon  their  hinges ;  and  the  moon, 
As  the  torn  edges  of  the  clouds  flew  past, 
Struggled  aslant  the  stained  and  broken  panes 
So  dimly,  that  the  watchful  eye  of  death 
Scarcely  was  conscious  when  it  went  and  came. 

2.  The  fire  beneath  his  crucible  *  was  low ; 
Yet  still  it  burned ;  and  ever  as  his  thoughts 
Grew  insupportable,  he  raised  himself 
Upon  his  wasted  arm,  and  stirred  the  coals 
With  difficult  energy ;  and  when  the  rod 

.    Fell  from  his  nerveless  fingers,  and  his  eye 
Felt  faint  within  its  socket,  he  shrunk  back 
Upon  his  pallet,  and  with  unclosed  lips 
Muttered  a  curse  on  death ! 


•  An  alchemist  is  one  versed  in  the  science  of  chemistry  as  practised  in  for- 
mer times.  The  object  of  alchemy  was  to  change  the  baser  metals  into  gold,  to' 
find  an  elixir  by  which  disease  and  death  were  to  be  avoided,  &c. 


J 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  335 

3.  The  silent  room, 
From  its  dim  corners,  mockingly  gave  back 
His  rattling  breath ;  the  humming  in  the  fire 
Had  the  distinctness  of  a  knell ;  and  when 
Duly  the  antique  horologe*  beat  one, 

He  drew  a  vial  from  beneath  his  head, 
And  drank.    And  instantly  his  lips  compressed, 
And,  with  a  shudder  in  his  skeleton  frame, 
He  rose  with  supernatural  strength,  and  sat 
Upright,  and  communed  with  himself:  — 

4.  I  did  not  think  to  die 

Till  I  had  finished  what  I  had  to  do ; 

I  thought  to  pierce  the  eternal  secret  through 

With  this  my  mortal  eye ; 
I  felt,  O  God !    It  seemeth  even  now 
This  cannot  be  the  death-dew  on  my  brow  ! 

6.  And  yet  it  is.  —  I  feel, 

Of  this  dull  sickuess  at  my  heart,  afraid ; 

And  in  my  eyes  the  death-sparks  flash  and  fade 

And  something  seems  to  steal 
Over  my  bosom  like  a  frozen  hand, 
Binding  its  pulses  with  an  icy  band. 

6.  And  this  is  death !    But  why 
Feel  I  this  wild  recoil  ^?     It  cannot  be 
The  immortal  spirit  shuddereth  to  be  free : 

Would  it  not  leap  to  fly 
Like  a  chained  eaglet  at  its  parent's  call  ? 
I  fear  —  I  fear  —  that  this  poor  life  is  all  I 

7.  Yet  thus  to  pass  away !  — 

To  live  but  for  a  hope  that  mocks  at  last,  —» 
To  agonize  \  to  strive,  to  watch,  to  fast 
To  waste  the  light  of  day, 


THE  FIFTH  READER* 

Kight's  better  beauty,  feeling,  fancy,  thought. 
All  that  we  have  and  are  —  for  this  —  for  naught  I 


*t3* 


8.  Grant  me  another  year, 

God  of  ray  spirit !  —  but  a  day,  —  to  win 
Something  to  satisfy  this  thirst  within ! 

I  would  know  something  here ! 
Break  for  me  but  one  seal  that  is  unbroken ! 
Speak  for  me  but  one  word  that  is  unspoken  \ 

9.  Vain  —  vain !  —  my  brain  is  turning 

With  a  swift  dizziness,  and  my  heart  grows  sick, 
And  these  hot  temple-throbs  come  fast  and  thicl^ 

And  I  am  freezing —  burning  — 
Dying !    O  God !  if  I  might  only  live ! 
My  vial Ha !  it  thrills  me !  —  I  revive. 

10.  O,  but  for  time  to  track 

The  upper  stars  into  the  pathless  sky,  — 
To  see  the  invisible  spirits,  eye  to  eye,  — - 

To  hurl  the  lightning  back,  — 
To  tread  unhurt  the  sea's  dim-lighted  halls,— 
To  chase  day's  chariot  to  the  h orizon -walls,— 

11.  And  more,  much  more,  —  for  now 
The  life-sealed  fountains  of  my  nature  move 
To  nurse  and  purify  this  human  love ; 

To  clear  the  godlike  brow 
Of  weakness  and  mistrust,  and  bow  it  down 
Worthy  and  beautiful,  to  the  much-loved  one. 

12.  This  were  indeed  to  feel 

The  soul-thirst  slaken  at  the  living  stream, — 
To  live  —  O  God  !  that  life  is  but  a  dream ! 

And  death Aha  !  I  reel  — 

Dim — dim — I  faint — darkness  comes  o'er  my  eye;- 
Cover  me !  save  me ! God  of  heaven !  I  die  1 


THE   FIFTH  READER.  337 

13.  'Twas  morning,  and  the  old  man  lay  alone. 
No  friend  had  closed  his  eyelids,  and  his  lips, 
Open  and  ashy  pale,  the  expression  wore 

Of  his  death-struggle.     His  long,  silvery  hair 
Lay  on  his  hollow  temples  thin  and  wild, 
His  frame  was  wasted,  and  his  features  wan 
And  haggard  as  with  want,  and  in  his  palm 
His  nails  were  driven  deep,  as  if  the  throe* 
Of  the  last  agony  had  wrung  him  sore. 

14.  The  fire  beneath  the  crucible  was  out ; 
The  vessels  of  his  mystic  ^  art  lay  round, 
Useless  and  cold  as  the  ambitious  hand 
That  fashioned  them,  and  the  small  rod, 
Familiar  to  his  touch  for  threescore  years, 
Lay  on  the  alembic's '  rim,  as  if  it  still 
Might  vex  the  elements  at  its  master's  will. 

15.  And  thus  had  passed  from  its  unequal  frame 
A  soul  of  fire,  —  a  sun-bent  eagle  stricken 
From  his  high  soaring  down,  —  an  instrument 
Broken  with  its  own  compass.     O,  how  poor 
Seems  the  rich  gift  of  genius,  when  it  Ues, 
Like  the  adventurous  bird  that  hath  outflown 
His  strength  upon  the  sea,  ambition  wrecked, — 
A  thing  the  thrush  might  pity,  as  she  sits 
Brooding  in  quiet  on  her  lowly  nest. 


1  CRtf'ci-BLE.    A  melting-pot  used  by 

chemists  and  goldsmiths. 

2  H6r'q  l6(^e.       Something     which 

tells  what  hour  it  is  ;  a  time-piece. 
1  Re-coIl'.     Motion  backwards;   re- 
bound J  a  shrinking  or  faltering. 

29 


*  Xg'q-nIze.  Feel  agony;  suffer  ex- 
treme pain. 

5  Throe.    Extreme  pain  ;  pang: 

8  M^s'tic.    Secret ;  unrevealed. 

I  A-l£m'bic'.  a  chemical  vessel,  used 
in  distillation. 


338  THE  FIFTH  READER. 


CL  — SPEECH   ON  THE  REFORM  BILL. 

Brougham. 

[Henry  Brougham,  Lord  Brougham,  was  born  in  Edinburgh  in  1778,  and  died 
in  18(58,'  He  was  eminent  as  a  statesman,  orator,  lawyer,  and  man  of  letters. 
He  was  Lord  Chancellor  of  England  from  1830  to  1834.  The  following  extract 
is  from  a  speecli  delivered  by  him  in  favor  of  the  reform  bill,  in  the  House  of 
Lords,  in  October,  1831.] 

1.  My  Lords  :  I  do  not  disguise  the  intense  solicitude 
which  I  feel  for  the  event  of  this  debate,  because  I  know 
full  well  that  the  peace  of  the  country  is  involved  in  the 
issue.  I  cannot  look,  without  dismay,  at  the  rejection  of 
the  measure. 

2.  But  grievous  as  may  be  the  consequences  of  a  tem- 
porary defeat,  —  for  temporary  it  can  only  be,  —  its  ulti- 
mate and  even  speedy  success  is  certain.  Nothing  can 
now  stop  it.  Do  not  suffer  yourselves  to  be  persuaded, 
that  even  if  the  present  ministers '  were  driven  from  the 
helm,  any  one  could  steer  you  througli  the  troubles  which 
surround  you,  without  refonn.  But  our  successors  would 
take  up  the  task  in  circumstances  far  less  auspicious  ^ 
Under  them  you  would  be  fain  to  grant  a  bill,  compared 
with  which,  the  one  we  now  proffer  you  is  moderate  in- 
deed. 

3.  Hear  the  parable  of  the  Sibyl,*  for  it  conveys  a  wise 
and  wholesome  moral.  She  now  appears  at  your  gate,  and 
offers  you  mildly  the  volumes,  the  precious  volumes,  of 
wisdom  and  peace.  The  price  she  asks  is  reasonable  —  to 
restore  the  franchise^,  which,  without  any  bargain,  you 
ought  voluntarily  to  give.  You  refuse  her  terms,  her  mod- 
erate terms  :  she  darkens  the  porch  no  longer. 

*  The  Sibyls  were  prophetic  women  of  Greece  and  Rome.  The  most  cele- 
brated one  of  them  offered  for  sale  to  Tarquin,  an  early  king  of  Rome,  nine 
books  of  prophecies.  When  the  king,  on  account  of  the  high  price,  refused  to 
buy  them,  the  Sibyl  threw  tiiree  into  the  fire,  and  on  a  second  refusal,  thrco 
more,  after  which  the  king,  alarmed,  paid  for  the  three  remaining  the  prica 
«Bked  for  the  whole. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  339 

4.  But  soon — for  you  cannot  do  without  lier  wares  —  you 
call  her  back.  Again  she  comes,  but  with  diminished  treas- 
ures. The  leaves  of  the  book  are  in  jDart  torn  away  by 
lawless  hands,  in  part  defaced  with  characters  of  blood. 
But  the  prophetic  maid  has  risen  in  her  demands.  It  is 
parliaments  by  the  year  —  it  is  vote  by  the  ballot  —  it  is 
suffrage "  by  the  million ! 

6.  From  this  you  turn  away  indignant,  and  for  the  sec- 
ond time  she  departs.  Beware  of  her  third  coming :  for 
the  treasure  you  must  have ;  and  what  price  she  may  next 
demand,  who  shall  tell  ?  It  may  even  be  the  mace  ^  which 
rests  upon  that  woolsack ^ 

6.  What  may  follow  your  course  of  obstinacy,  if  per- 
sisted in,  I  cannot  take  upon  me  to  predict,  nor  do  I  wish 
to  conjecture.  But  this  I  know  full  well,  that,  as  sure  as 
man  is  mortal,  and  to  err  is  human,  justice  deferred  en- 
hances the  price  at  which  you  must  purchase  safety  and 
peace ;  nor  can  you  expect  to  gather  in  another  crop  than 
they  did  who  went  before  you,  if  you  persevere  in  their 
utterly  abominable  husbandry,  of  sowing  injustice  and 
reaping  rebellion. 

7.  But  among  the  awful  considerations  that  now  bow 
down  my  mind,  there  is  one  which  stands  preeminent  above 
the  rest.  You  are  the  highest  judicature'  in  the  realm; 
you  sit  here  as  judges,  and  decide  all  causes,  civil  and  crim- 
inal, without  appeal.  It  is  a  judge's  first  duty  never  to 
pronounce  sentence,  in  the  most  trifling  case,  without 
hearing.     Will  you  make  this  the  exception  ? 

8.  Are  you  really  prepared  to  determine,  but  not  to 
hear,  the  mighty  case  upon  which  a  nation's  hopes  and 
fears  hang  ?     You  are.     Then  beware  of  your  decision  ! 

9.  Rouse  not,  I  beseech  you,  a  peace-loving,  but  a  reso- 
lute people;  alienate®  not  from  your  body  the  affections 
of  a  whole  empire.  As  your  friend,  as  the  friend  of  my 
order,  as  the  friend  of  my  country,  as  the  faithful  servant 


840 


THE    FIFTH   EEADER. 


of  my  sovereign,  I  counsel  you  to  assist,  with  your  utter- 
most efforts,  in  preserving  the  peace,  and  upholding  and 
perpetuating  the  constitution. 

10.  Therefore,  I  pray  and  I  exhort  you  not  to  reject 
this  measure.  By  all  you  hold  most  dear,  by  all  the  ties 
that  bind  every  one  of  us  to  our  common  order  and  our 
common  country,  I  solemnly  adjure  you,  I  warn  you,  I 
implore  you,  yea,  on  my  bended  knees,  I  supplicate  you  — 
reject  not  this  bill. 


I  MlN'js-TER§.  Here,  heads  of  the 
diflFerent  departments  of  the  gov- 
ernment. 

J  iu-spI"ciovs.  Favorable;  prosper- 
ous; fortunate. 

»  FrXn'ch}§e.  a  ri^ht  reserved  to 
the  people  by  the  constitution  ;  as, 
"  the  elective  franchise." 

i  SOf'fr^^e.    Vote;  right  of  voting. 

5  Mace.    An  ornamental  staff  carried 


before  magistrates  as  the  ensign 
of  authority. 

6  Wool'sXck  (wai'-).  The  seat  of  the 

lord  chancellor  of  England  in  the 
House  of  Lords,  being  a  large, 
square  bag  of  wool,  without  back 
or  arms,  covered  with  red  cloth. 

7  JO'Dj-CA-TURE.    Court  of  justice ;  a 

tribunal. 

8  1l'i$n-ate  (-y?n-).    Estrange. 


CIL  — ODE  TO  THE  SEA-SERPENT. 


1.  From  what  abysses  of  the  unfathomed  sea 

Tumest  thou  up.  Great  Serpent,  now  and  then, 
If  we  may  venture  to  believe  in  thee, 


And  affidavits 


of  seafaring  men  ? 


2.  What  whirlpool  gulf  to  thee  affords  a  home  ? 

Amid  the  unknown  depths,  where  dost  thou  dwell  ? 
If —  like  the  mermaid,  with  her  glass  and  comb  — 
Thou  art  not  what  the  vulcrar  call  a  "sell." 


8.   Art  thou,  indeed,  a  serpent,  and  no  sham  ? 
Or,  if  no  serpent,  a  prodigious  ^  eel,  — 
An  entity ^  though  modified  by  flam*,  — 
A  basking-shark,  or  monstrous  kind  of  seal 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  34l 

4   I'll  think  that  thou  a  true  ophidian '  art ; 
I  cannot  say  a  reptile  of  the  deep, 
Because  thou  dost  not  play  a  reptile's  part ; 
Thou  swimmest,  it  appears,  and  dost  not  creep. 

5.  Art  thou  a  giant  adder,  or  huge  asp. 

And  hast  thou  got  a  rattle  at  thy  tail  ? 
If  of  the  boa  species,  couldst  thou  clasp 
Within  thy  folds,  and  suffocate,  a  whale  ? 

6.  How  long  art  thou  ?  —  Some  sixty  feet,  they  say, 

And  more ;  but  how  much  more  they  do  not  know : 
I  fancy  thou  couldst  reach  across  a  bay. 
From  head  to  head,  a  dozen  miles  or  so. 

7.  Scales  hast  thou  got,  of  course;  —  but  what's  the 

weight  ? 
On  either  side  'tis  said  thou  hast  a  fin, 
A  crest,  too,  on  thy  neck,  deponents^  state, 
A  saw-shaped  ridge  of  flabby,  dabby  skin. 

8.  If  I  could  clutch  thee  in  a  giant's  grip. 

Could  I  retain  thee  in  that  grasp  sublime  ? 
"Wouldst  thou  not  quickly  through  my  fingers  slip, 
Being  all  over  glazed  with  fishy  slime  ? 

9.  Hast  thou  a  forked  tongue,  —  and  dost  tliou  hiss 

If  ever  thou  art  bored  with  Ocean's  play  ? 
And  is  it  the  correct  hypothesis ' 

That  thou  by  gills  or  lungs  dost  breathe  thy  way  ? 

10.   What  spines,  or  spikes,  or  claws,  or  nails,  or  fin. 
Or  paddle,  ocean-serpent,  dost  thou  bear  ? 
What  kind  of  teeth  show'st  thou,  when  thou  dost  grin  ? 
A  set  that  probably  would  make  one  stare. 
29* 


342 


THE    FIFTH   READER. 


11.  What  is  thy  diet  ?    Canst  thou  gulp  a  shoal  ^ 

Of  herrings?    Or  hast  thou  the  gorge **  and  room 
To  bolt  fat  porpoises  and  dolphins,  whole, 
By  dozens,  e'en  as  oysters  we  consume  ? 

12.  Art  thou  alone,  thou  serpent,  on  the  brine, 

The  sole  surviving  member  of  thy  race  ? 
Is  there  no  brother,  sister,  wife,  of  thine, 
But  thou  alone  afloat  on  Ocean's  face  ? 

13.  If  such  a  calculation  may  be  made,  — 

Thine  age  at  what  a  figure  may  we  take  ? 
When  first  the  granite  mountain-stones  were  laid, 
Wast  thou  not  present  there  and  then,  old  snake  ? 


14.  What  fossil  saurians  ^°  in  thy  time  have  been  ? 
How  many  mammoths  crumbled  into  mould  ? 
What  geologic  periods  hast  thou  seen. 
Long  as  the  tail  thou  doubtless  canst  un] 


15.  As  a  dead  whale,  but  as  a  whale,  though  dead, 

Thy  floating  bulk  a  British  crew  did  strike ; 
And,  so  far,  none  will  question  what  they  said, 
That  thou  unto  a  whale  wast  very  like. 

16.  A  flock  of  birds,  a  record,  rather  loose. 

Describes  as  hovering  o'er  thy  lengthy  hull ; 
Among  them,  doubtless,  there  was  many  a  goose. 
And,  also,  several  of  the  genus  gull. 


1  Af-fi-da'vit.  a  declaration  on  oath, 

g^enerally  in  writing^. 

2  Prq-dT9'iovs  (-(lij'us).    Very  great  j 

enormous  ;  monstrous, 
s  En't!-T¥.    Being  ;  existence. 
<  FlAm.    Fancy  ;  whim. 
6  Q-puId'i-ah.    Serpent. 


6  De-po'nent.    One  who  giyes  testi- 

mony under  oath. 

7  Hy-p6th'e-s1s.    a  supposition. 

8  Shoal.    A  multitude  ;  a  crowd. 

9  GoR^E.    Throat;  gullet. 

10  Sau'ri-an.     a  reptile  having  Bcalcs 
and  four  legs,  as  the  lizard. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  343 

CIIL— THE  ABBOT  AND   ROBERT  BRUCE. 

SiK  Walter  Scott. 

[Robert  Bruce,  the  famous  King-  of  Scotland,  being-  overtaken  by  a  storm, 
seeks  refuge  in  Artornish  Castle,  where  a  wedding  feast  is  going  on.  lie  craves 
the  hospitality  of  the  castle,  but  conceals  his  name.  Notwithstatuling  this,  he  is 
Boon  recognized,  and  is  in  imminent  danger  of  being  set  upon  aud  killed,  as 
many  of  the  guysts  are  his  bitter  enemies.  De  Argentine,  an  English  kniglit, 
claims  Bruce  as  a  rebel  against  the  authority  of  the  King  of  England.  The 
Lord  of  Lorn  is  a  kinsman  of  Comyn  whom  Bruce  had  killed  in  a  church,  and 
whose  death  he  is  eager  to  avenge.  It  is  iinally  agreed  to  allow  an  abbotj  who 
Is  present,  to  decide  what  shall  be  done.] 

Abbot. 
1,   Unhappy  !  what  hast  thou  to  plead, 
Why  I  denounce  not  on  thy  deed 
That  awful  doom  which,  canons*  tell, 
Shuts  Paradise  and  opens  Hell? 
Anathema  2  of  power  so  dread, 
It  blends  the  living  with  the  dead, 
Bids  each  good  angel  soar  away, 
And  every  ill  one  claim  his  prey ; 
Expels  thee  from  the  Church's  care, 
And  deafens  Heaven  against  thy  prayer; 
Arms  every  hand  against  thy  life, 
Bans^  all  who  aid  thee  in  the  strife, 
Nay,  each  whose  succor,  cold  and  scant, 
With  meanest  alms  relieves  thy  want ; 
Haunts  thee  while  living,  and  when  dead, 
Dwells  on  thy  yet  devoted "  head  ; 
Rends  honor's  scutcheon*  from  thy  hearse, 
Stills  o'er  thy  bier  the  holy  verse. 
And  spurns  thy  corpse  from  hallowed  ground. 
Flung  like  vile  carrion  to  the  hound! 
Such  is  the  dire  and  desperate  doom 
For  sacrilege,  decreed  by  Rome; 


344  THE   FIFTH   READEK, 

And  such  the  well-deserved  meed' 
Of  thine  unhallowed,  ruthless  deed. 

Bkuce. 

2.  Abbot !  thy  grave  and  weighty  charge 
It  boots'  not  to  dispute  at  large: 
This  much,  howe'er,  I  bid  thee  know, 
No  selfish  vengeance  dealt  the  blow 
For  Comyn  died  his  country's  foe. 

Nor  blame  I  friends  whose  ill-timed  speed 

Fulfilled  my  soon  repented  deed  ; 

Nor  censure  those  from  whose  stem  tongue 

The  dire  anathema  has  rung. 

I  only  blame  mine  own  wild  ire, 

By  Scotland's  wrongs  incensed  to  fire. 

Heaven  knows  my  purpose  to  atone, 

Far  as  I  may,  the  evil  done. 

And  hears  a  penitent's  appeal 

From  papal  curse  and  prelate's  zeal. 

3.  My  first  and  dearest  task  achieved, 
Fair  Scotland  from  her  thrall  relieved, 
Shall  many  a  priest  in  cope®  and  stole* 
Say  requiem  ^^  for  Red  Comyn's  soul, 
While  I  the  blessed  cross  advance. 
And  expiate  this  unhappy  chance. 

In  Palestine,  with  sword  and  lance. 

But,  while  content  the  Church  should  know 

My  conscience  owns  the  debt  I  owe, 

Unto  De  Argentine  and  Lorn 

The  name  of  traitor  I  return. 

Bid  them  defiance,  stern  and  high, 

And  give  them  in  their  throats  the  lie ! 

These  brief  words  spoke,  I  speak  no  more : 

Do  what  thou  wilt;  my  shrift"  is  o'er. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  345 

Abbot. 
4.  De  Bruce !  I  rose  with  purpose  dread 
To  speak  my  curse  upon  thy  head^ 
To  give  thee,  as  an  outcast,  o'er 
To  him  who  burns  to  shed  thy  gore ; 
But,  Uke  the  Midianite  *  of  old, 
Who  stood  on  Zophim,  Heaven-controlled, 
I  feel  within  mine  aged  breast 
A  power  that  will  not  be  repressed ; 
It  prompts  ray  voice,  it  swells  my  veins, 
It  burns,  it  maddens,  it  constrains! 
De  Bruce  !  thy  sacrilegious  blow 
Hath  at  God's  altar  slain  thy  foe ; 
O'ermastered  yet  by  high  behest*^, 
I  bless  thee,  and  thou  shalt  be  blessed ! 

6.   Thrice  vanquished  on  the  battle-plain, 
Thy  followers  slaughtered,  fled,  or  ta'en, 
A  hunted  wanderer  on  the  wild. 
On  foreign  shores  a  man  exiled. 
Disowned,  deserted,  and  distressed, 
I  bless  thee,  and  thou  shalt  be  blessed; 
Blessed  in  the  hall  and  in  the  field, 
Under  the  mantle  as  the  shield. 
Avenger  of  thy  country's  shame, 
Restorer  of  her  injured  fame. 
Blessed  in  thy  sceptre  and  thy  sword, 
De  Bruce,  fair  Scotland's  rightful  lord, 
Blessed  in  thy  deeds  and  in  thy  fame, 
What  lengthened  honors  wait  thy  name  I 
In  distant  ages,  sire  to  son 
Shall  tell  thy  tale  of  Freedom  won. 
And  teach  his  infants,  in  the  use 
Of  earliest  speech,  to  falter  Bruce. 

*  Balaam.    See  Numbers,  chap,  xxili. 


346 


THE   FIFTH   READEB. 


6.   Go,  til  en,  triumphant !  sweep  along 
Thy  course,  the  theme  of  many  a  song! 
The  Power,  whose  dictates  swell  my  breast, 
Hath  blessed  thee,  and  thou  shalt  be  blessed ! 


1  CXn'pn?.   Laws  of  the  church ;  also, 

the  Holy  Scriptures. 

2  i^-NATH'?-MA.    A  curse  pronounced 

by  ecclesiastical  authority ;  excom- 
munication. 

»  BXn^.    Curses  ;  execrates. 

*  D^-voT'jfD.    Doomed;  consi^edto 
evil. 
ScOtch'eon.   a  shield  on  which  the 
coat  of  arms  of  a  family  is  repre- 
sented; escutcheon. 


6  Meed.    Reward;  merit;  desert. 

7  Boots.    Profits. 

8  Cope.  A  kind  of  cloak  worn  by  the 

clergy  during  church  services. 

9  St5l.e.  a  narrow  band  worn  across 

the  shoulders  by  bishops  and  priests. 

10  Rii'Qui-EM.  A  musical  composition 
performed  in  honor  of  some  de- 
ceased person. 

n  SHRtFT.  Confession  made  to  a  priest. 

13  B^-uEsx'.    Command ;  ii^unction. 


CIV.  — LINES  ON  A  SKELETON. 

Behold  this  ruin !  'Tis  a  skull, 

Once  of  ethereal  spirit  full. 

This  narrow  cell  was  Life's  retreat ; 

This  space  was  Thought's  mysterious  seat. 

What  beauteous  pictures  filled  this  spot ! 

What  dreams  of  pleasure,  long  forgot ! 

Nor  grief,  nor  joy,  nor  hope,  nor  fear, 

Has  left  one  trace  or  record  here ! 


2.  Beneath  this  mouldering  canopy 
Once  shone  the  bright  and  busy  eye; 
Yet  start  not  at  that  dismal  void  I 
If  social  love  that  eye  employed, 
If  with  no  lawless  fire  it  gleamed, 
But  with  the  dew  of  kindness  beamed. 
That  eye  shall  be  forever  bright 
When  stars  and  suns  have  lost  their  light. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  347 

8.   Here,  in  this  silent  cavern,  hung 

The  ready,  swift,  and  tuneful  tongue. 

If  Falsehood's  honey  it  disdained, 

And  where  it  could  not  praise,  was  chained;— 

If  in  bold  Virtue's  cause  it  spoke, 

Yet  gentle  concord  never  broke;  — 

That  tuneful  tongue  shall  plead  for  thee 

When  death  unveils  eternity. 

4.  Say,  did  these  fingers  delve'  the  mine  ? 
Or,  with  its  envied  rubies  shine  ?  — 
To  hew  the  rock,  or  wear  the  gem, 
Can  nothing  now  avail  to  them. 

But,  if  the  page  of  Truth  they  sought, 
And  comfort  to  the  mourners  brought, 
These  hands  a  richer  meed  shall  claim 
Than  all  that  waits  on  wealth  or  fame ! 

5.  Avails  it  whether  bare  or  shod 
These  feet  the  paths  of  Duty  trod  ? 
If  from  the  bowers  of  Joy  they  sped. 
To  soothe  Affliction's  humble  bed,  — 

If  Grandeur's  guilty  bribe  they  spurned, 
And  home  to  Virtue's  lap  returned,  — 
Those  feet  with  angelgi'  wings  shall  vie*, 
And  tread  the  palace  of  the  sky ! 

1  DfiLVE.    Digi  use  the  spade.  1  2  viE»  Strive  for  supremacy ;  contend. 


848  THE   FIFTH  READEB. 

CV.  —THE  DUTY   OF  AMERICAN  CITIZENS. 

Everett. 

[The  following  extract  is  from  the  closing'  portion  of  an  address  before  the 
Union  Club,  delivered  at  Boston,  April  9, 18G3.] 

1.  War  is  justly  regarded  as  one  of  the  greatest  evils 
that  can  befall  a  nation,  though  it  is  not  the  greatest ;  and 
of  this  great  evil,  civil  war  is  the  most  deplorable  form. 
I  want  words  to  express  the  sorrow  wiih  which,  from  the 
first,  I  have  contemplated ',  and  unceasingly  contemplate, 
the  necessity  laid  upon  us,  to  wage  this  war  for  the  in- 
tegrity of  the  nation. 

2.  Not  without  deep  solicitude  I  saw  the  angry  clouds 
gathering  in  the  horizon.  North  and  South ;  and  I  devoted 
the  declining  years  of  my  life,  with  a  kind  of  religious 
consecration '^j  to  the  attempt  to  freshen  the  sacred  mem- 
ories that  cluster  around  that  dear  and  venerated  name,* 
which  I  need  not  repeat,  —  memories  which  had  survived 
the  multiplying  causes  of  alienation,  and  were  so  well  cal- 
culated to  strengthen  the  cords  of  the  Union.  To  these 
humble  efforts,  and  the  time  and  labor  expended  upon 
them,  —  truly  a  labor  of  love, — I  would,  as  Heaven  is  my 
Witness,  have  cheerfully  added  the  sacrifice  of  my  life,  if 
by  so  doing  I  could  have  averted  the  catastrophe.  For 
that  cause,  I  should  have  thought  a  few  care-worn  and 
weary  years  cheaply  laid  on  the  altar  of  my  country.  But 
it  could  not  be. 

3.  A  righteous  Providence,  in  its  wisdom,  has  laid  upon 
us  —  even  upon  us  —  the  performance  of  this  great  and 
solemn  duty.  It  is  now  plain,  to  the  dullest  perception, 
that  the  hour  of  trial  could  not  be  much  longer  delayed. 
The  leaders  of  the  rebellion  tell  us  themselves  that  they 

*  ■Referring  to  the  author's  Oration  on  Washington,  delivered  in  aid  of  the 
Mount  Vernon  Associatiou. 


THE   FIFTH  READER.  849 

had  plotted  and  planned  it  for  an  entire  generation.  It 
might  have  been  postponed  for  four  years,  or  for  eight 
years,  but  it  was  sure,  in  no  long  time,  to  come ;  and  if, 
by  base  compliance  ^  we  could  have  turned  the  blow  from 
ourselves,  it  would  have  fallen,  with  redoubled  violence, 
on  our  children. 

4.  Let  us,  then,  meet  it  like  men.  It  must  needs  be  that 
offences  shall  come,  but  woe  unto  that  man  by  whom  the 
offence  cometh.  Let  us  show  ourselves  equal  to  the  duty 
imposed  upon  us,  and  faithful  to  the  trust  to  which  we  are 
called.  The  cause  in  which  we  are  engaged  is  the  cause 
of  the  constitution  and  the  law,  of  civilization  and  free- 
dom, of  man  and  of  God.  Let  us  engage  in  it  with  a 
steadiness  and  fortitude,  a  courage  and  a  zeal,  a  patience 
and  a  resolution,  a  hope  and  a  cheer,  worthy  of  the  fathers 
from  whom  we  are  descended,  of  the  country  we  defend, 
and  of  the  privileges*  we  inherit. 

5.  There  is  a  call  and  a  duty,  a  work  and  a  place,  for  all ; 
— for  man  and  for  woman,  for  rich  and  for  poor,  for  old  and 
for  young,  for  the  stout-hearted  and  strong-handed,  for  all 
who  enjoy,  and  all  who  deserve  to  enjoy,  the  priceless  bless- 
ings at  stake.  Let  the  venerable  forms  of  the  Pilgrim 
fathers,  the  majestic  images  of  our  revolutionary  sires,  and 
of  the  sages  ^  that  gave  us  this  glorious  Union ;  let  the 
anxious  expectation  of  the  friends  of  liberty  abroad  ;  let 
the  hardships  and  perils  of  our  brethren  in  the  field,  and 
the  fresh-made  graves  of  the  dear  ones  who  have  fallen  ; 
let  every  memory  of  past,  and  every  hope  of  the  future ; 
every  thought  and  every  feeling,  that  can  nerve  the  arm, 
or  fire  the  heart,  or  elevate  and  purify  the  soul  of  a 
patriot,  —  rouse,  and  guide,  and  cheer,  and  inspire  us  to 
do,  and,  if  need  be,  to  die,  for  our  country ! 


1  CQx-Teat'PLAT  ED.  Attentively  con 

sirlered  ;  thought  upon. 

2  C6n-se-cra.'tipn.       Dedication;    i 

setting- apart  as  sacred.  i  6  Sa'c^e^.    Wise  men, 

30 


3  Com-plT'ance.    Yielding. 
♦  PRiv'i-L£(;JE.       Private  or  peculiar 
right ,  peculiar  advantage. 


350  THE   FIFTH  READEE. 

CVI.— SUPPOSED  SPEECH   OF   REGULUS  TO  THE 

CARTHAGINIANS. 

E.  Kellogg. 

[Eegiilus  was  a  Roman  general,  who,  in  the  first  Punic  war,  was  taken  pris- 
oner by  tlie  Carthaginians,  and  after  a  captivity  of  several  years,  was  sent  by 
them  to  Rome,  with  an  embassy  to  solicit  peace,  or,  at  least,  an  exchange  of 
prisoners.  But  Regulus  earnestly  dissuaded  his  countrymen  from  botli,  and, 
resisting  all  the  persuasions  of  his  friends  to  remain  in  Rome,  he  returned  to 
Carthage,  where  he  is  said  to  have  been  put  to  death,  with  the  most  cruel  tor- 
tures.] 

1.  The  beams  of  the  rising  sun  had  gilded  the  lofty 
domes  of  Carthage,  and  given,  with  its  rich  and  mellow 
light,  a  tinge  of  beauty  even  to  the  frowning  ramparts*  of 
tlie  outer  harbor.  Sheltered  by  the  verdant  shores,  an 
hundred  triremes''  were  riding  proudly  at  their  anchors, 
their  brazen  beaks  ^  glittering  in  the  sun,  their  streamers 
dancing  in  the  morning  breeze,  while  many  a  shattered 
plank  and  timber  gave  evidence  of  desperate  conflict  with 
the  fleets  of  Rome. 

2.  No  murmur  of  business  or  of  revelry  arose  from  the 
city.  The  artisan"*  had  forsaken  his  shop,  the  judge  his 
tribunal,  the  priest  the  sanctuary^,  and  even  the  stern 
stoic  '^  had  come  forth  from  his  retirement  to  mingle  with 
the  crowd  that,  anxious  and  agitated,  were  rushing  toward 
the  senate-house,  startled  by  the  report  that  Regulus  had 
returned  to  Carthage. 

3.  Onward,  still  onward,  trampling  each  other  under 
foot,  they  rushed,  furious  with  anger  and  eager  for  revenge. 
Fathers  were  there,  whose  sons  were  groaning  in  fetters ; 
maidens,  whose  lovers,  weak  and  wounded,  Avere  dying  in 
the  dungeons  of  Rome,  and  gi'ay-haired  men  and  matrons, 
whom  the  Roman  sword  had  left  childless. 

4.  But  when  the  stem  features  of  Regulus  were  seen, 
and  his  colossal'  form  towering  above  the  ambassadors 
who  had  returned  with  him  from  Rome ;  when  the  news 


I 


THE   FIFTH  READER.  351 

passed  from  lip  to  lij?  that  the  dreaded  warrior,  so  far  from 
advising  the  Roman  senate  to  consent  to  an  exchange  of 
prisoners,  had  urged  them  to  pursue,  with  exterminating 
vengeance,  Carthage  and  Carthaginians,  —  the  multitude 
swayed  to  and  fro  like  a  forest  beneatli  a  tempest,  and  the 
rage  and  hate  of  that  tumultuous  throng  vented  itself  in 
groans,  and  curses,  and  yells  of  vengeance.  But  calm, 
cold,  and  immovable  as  the  marble  walls  around  him, 
stood  the  Roman;  and  he  stretched  out  his  hand  over 
that  frenzied  crowd,  with  gesture  as  proudly  commanding 
as  though  he  still  stood  at  the  head  of  the  gleaming 
cohorts^  of  Rome. 

5.  The  tumult  ceased ;  the  curse,  half  muttered,  died 
upon  the  lip ;  and  so  intense  was  the  silence,  that  the 
clanking  of  the  brazen  manacles  upon  the  wrists  of  the 
captive  fell  sharp  and  full  upon  every  ear  in  that  vast 
assembly,  as  he  thus  addressed  them :  — 

6.  "Ye  doubtless  thought  —  for  ye  judge  of  Roman 
virtue  by  your  own  —  that  I  would  break  my  plighted 
oath,  rather  than,  returning,  brook  your  vengeance.  I 
might  give  reasons  for  this,  in  Punic  ^  comprehension, 
most  foolish  act  of  mine.  I  might  speak  of  those  eternal 
principles  which  make  death  for  one's  country  a  pleasure, 
not  a  pain.  But,  by  great  Jupiter!  methinks  I  should 
debase  myself  to  talk  of  such  high  things  to  you  ;  to  you, 
expert  in  womanly  inventions ;  to  you,  well-skilled  to  drive 
a  treacherous  trade  with  simple  Africans  for  ivory  and 
gold !  If  the  bright  blood  that  fills  my  veins,  transmitted 
free  from  godlike  ancestry,  were  like  that  slimy  ooze  which 
stagnates  in  your  arteries,  I  had  remained  at  home,  and 
broke  my  plighted  oath  to  save  my  life. 

7.  "  I  am  a  Roman  citizen ;  therefore  have  I  returned, 
that  ye  might  work  your  will  upon  this  mass  of  flesh  and 
bones,  that  I  esteem  no  higher  than  the  rags  that  cover 
them.    Here,  in  your  capital,  do  I  defy  you.    Have  I  not 


3o2  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

conquered  your  armies,  fired  your  towns,  and  dragged  your 
generals  at  my  chariot  wheels,  since  first  my  youthful  arms 
could  wield  a  spear  ?  And  do  you  think  to  see  me  crouch 
and  cower  before  a  tamed  and  shattered  senate  ?  The 
tearing  of  flesh  ar.d  rending  of  sinews  is  but  pastime  com- 
pared with  the  mental  agony  that  heaves  my  frame. 

8.  The  moon  has  scarce  yet  waned  since  the  proudest 
of  Rome's  proud  matrons,  the  mother  upon  whose  breast 
I  slept,  and  whose  fair  brow  so  oft  had  bent  over  me  before 
the  noise  of  battle  had  stirred  my  blood,  or  the  fierce  toil 
of  war  nerved  my  sinews,  did  with  fondest  memory  of 
bygone  hours  entreat  me  to  remain.  I  have  seen  her,  who, 
wlien  my  country  called  me  to  the  field,  did  buckle  on  my 
harness  with  trembling  hands,  while  the  tears  fell  thick 
and  fast  down  the  hard  corselet  scales,  —  I  have  seen  her 
tear  her  gray  locks  and  beat  her  aged  breast,  as  on  her 
knees  she  begged  me  not  to  return  to  Carthage ;  and  all 
the  assembled  senate  of  Rome,  grave  and  reverend  men, 
proffered  the  same  request.  The  puny  torments  which  ye 
have  in  store  to  welcome  me  withal,  shall  be,  to  what  I 
have  endured,  even  as  the  murmur  of  a  summer's  brook  to 
the  fierce  roar  of  angry  surges  on  a  rocky  beach. 

9.  Last  night,  as  I  lay  fettered  in  my  dungeon,  I  heard 
a  strange,  ominous  sound  :  it  seemed  like  the  distant  march 
of  some  vast  army,  their  harness  clanging  as  they  marched, 
■when  suddenly  there  stood  by  me  Xanthippus,  the  Spartan 
general,  by  whose  aid  you. conquered  me,  and,  with  a  voice 
low  as  w^hen  the  solemn  wind  moans  through  the  leafless 
forest,  he  thus  addressed  me  ;  "  Roman,  I  come  to  bid  thee 
curse,  with^thy  dying  breath,  this  fated  city ;  know  that  in 
an  evil  moment,  the  Carthaginian  generals,  furious  with 
rage  that  I  had  conquered  thee,  their  conqueror,  did  basely 
murder  me.  And  then  they  thought  to  stain  my  brightest 
honor.  But,  for  this  foul  deed,  the  wrath  of  Jove  shall  rest 
upon  them  here  and  hereafter."    And  then  he  vanished. 


THE  FIFTH  READEE. 


353 


10.  And  now,  go  bring  your  sharpest  torments.  The 
woes  I  see  impending  over  this  guilty  realm  shall  be  enough 
to  sweeten  death,  though  every  nerve  and  artery  were  a 
shooting  pang.  I  die !  but  my  death  shall  prove  a  proud 
triumph ;  and,  for  every  drop  of  blood  ye  from  my  veins 
do  draw,  your  own  shall  flow  in  rivers.  Woe  to  thee, 
Carthage !  Woe  to  the  proud  city  of  the  waters  !  I  see 
thy  nobles  wailing  at  the  feet  of  Roman  senators !  thy 
citizens  in  ten'or !  thy  ships  in  flames !  I  hear  the  victo- 
rious shouts  of  Rome !  I  see  her  eagles  glittering  on  thy 
ramparts.  Proud  city,  thou  art  doomed!  The  curse  of 
God  is  on  thee  —  a  clinging,  wasting  curse.  It  shall  not 
leave  thy  gates  till  hungry  flames  shall  lick  the  fretted  *" 
gold  from  ofi"  thy  proud  palaces,  and  every  brook  runs 
crimson  to  the  sea. 


1  RXm'pXrts.  Elevations  of  earth 
round  a  place  as  a  means  of  de- 
fence. 

•  TrFrEme.  An  ancient  kind  of  vespel, 

with  three  ranlcs  of  oars  on  a  side. 
»  Beak.    The  upper  part  of  the  stem 

of  a  ship. 
4  Ar'ti-§an.    a  mechanic. 
6  SAnct'V-a-ry.  The  most  retired  and 

sacred  part  of  a  temple ;  a  holy 

place ;  a  church. 

•  Sto'ics.     a  sect  of  ancient  philoso- 

phers, who   taught   that   a  man 


ought  to  be  free  from  all  passions, 
unmoved  by  joy  or  grief,  and  to 
regard  all  things  governed  by  un- 
avoidable necessity. 

7  Co -Los'SAL.    Gigantic  ;  huge. 

8  C5'h6kt.    a  body  of  soldiers.   The 

Roman  cohort  consisted  of  be- 
tween five  and  six  hundred  foot 
soldiers. 

9  PO'nic.    Carthaginian ;    hence,    un- 

worthy of  trust,    as  _the  Romans 
thought  the  Carthaginians  were. 
10  Fr£t'ted.  Formed  into  raised  work. 


Cyn.  — THE  BATTLE  OF  NASEBY. 


Macaulay. 


1 


[The  battle  of  Kaseby  was  fought  June  14,  1645,  between  Charles  T.  and  tho 
parliamentary  army  under  Fairfax  and  Cromwell.  The  main  body  of  the 
royal  army  was  commanded  by  tord  Astley  ;  Prince  Rupert,  the  king's  nephew 
and  a  German  by  birth,  led  the  right  wing,  and  Sir  Marmaduke  Langdale  tlia 
left.    Skippon  was  a  general  on  the  parliamentary  side.    The  royal  armyi 

30* 


THE  FIFTH  READEB. 


though  Bncoessful  in  the  early  part  of  the  action,  was  totally  defeated .  Alcatia 
was  a  disorderly  quarter  of  London,  and  Whitehall  was  the  royal  palace.  Tem- 
ple Bar  was  a  place  in  London  where,  formerly,  the  heads  of  traitors  were  ex- 
posed. This  ballad  is  supposed  to  be  written  by  an  officer  in  the  victorious 
army,  and  expresses  the  sentiments  which  such  a  man  would  naturally  feel  at 
the  triumph  of  a  cause  which  he  believed  to  be  right.] 

1.  O,  -WHEKEFORE  come  ye  forth,  in  triumph  from  the  North, 

With  your  hands,  and  your  feet,  and  your  raiment  *  all  red  ? 
And  wherefore  doth  your  rout-  send  forth  a  joyous  shout  ? 
And  whence  be  the  grapes  of  the  wine-press  which  ye  tread  ? 

2.  O,  evil  was  the  root,  and  bitter  was  the  fruit, 

And  crimson  was  the  juice  of  the  vintage  that  we  trod ; 
For  we  trampled  on  the  throng  of  the  haughty  and  the  strong, 
Who  sat  in  the  high  places,  and  slew  the  saints  of  God. 

3.  It  was  about  the  noon  of  a  glorious  day  of  June, 

That  we  saw  their  banners  dance,  and  their  cuirasses'  shine; 
And  the  Man  of  Blood  was  there,  with  his  long  essenced  hair, 
And  Astley,  and  Sir  Marmaduke,  and  Rupert  of  the  Rhine, 

4.  Like  a  servant  of  the  Lord,  with  his  Bible  and  his  sword, 

The  general  rode  along  us,  to  form  us  to  the  fight, 
.  When  a  murmuring  sound  broke  out,  and  swelled  into  a  shout, 
Among  the  godless  horsemen,  upon  the  tyrant's  right. 

5.  And,  hark  !  like  the  roar  of  the  billows  on  the  shore, 

The  cry  of  battle  rises  along  their  charging  line  ! 
For  God  !  for  the  Cause  !  for  the  Church  !  for  the  Laws  ! 
For  Charles,  King  of  England,  and  Rupert  of  the  Rhine ! 

6.  The  furious  German  comes,  with  his  clarions  and  his  drums, 

His  bravoes  of  Alsatia,  and  pages  of  Whitehall ; 
They  are  bursting  on  our  flanks.     Grasp  your  pikes,  close  your 
ranks. 
For  Rupert  never  comes  but  to  conquer  or  to  fall. 

7.  They  are  here  !    They  rush  on  !    We  are  broken !   We  are  gone  J 

Our  left  is  borne  before  them  like  stubble  on  the  blast. 
O  Lord,  put  forth  thy  might !  O  Lord,  defend  the  right ! 
Stand  back  to  back,  in  God's  name,  and  fight  it  to  the  last. 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


355 


8.  Stout  Skippon  hath  a  wound ;  the  centre  hath  given  ground ; 

Hark  !  hark  !    What  means  this  trampling  of  hoi  semen  in  our 
rear  ? 
Whose  banner  do  I  see,  boys  ?     'Tis  he,  thank  God,  'tis  he,  boys. 
Bear  up  another  minute  :  brave  Oliver  is  here. 

9.  Their  heads  all  stooping  low,  their  points  all  in  a  row, 

Like  a  whirlwind  on  the  trees,  like  a  deluge  on  the  dykes  *, 
Our  cuirassiers  have  burst  on  the  ranks  of  the  Accurst, 
And  at  a  shock  have  scattered  the  forest  of  his  pikes. 

10.   Fast,  fast,  the  gallants  ride,  in  some  safe  nook  to  hide 

Their  coward  heads,  predestined  ^  to  rot  on  Temple  Bar ; 
And  he  —  he  turns,  he  flies :  —  shame  on  those  cruel  eyes 
That  bore  to  look  on  torture,  and  dare  not  look  on  war. 


1  RAi'MENT.    Apparel ;  dress. 

«  RoOt.    a  noisy  crowd ;  rabble. 

8  Cui'RASs  (kwe'rfis).  A  piece  of  de- 
fensive armor  for  the  upper  part 
of  the  body. 


4  D5ke.    a  channel  to  receive  water; 

a  ditcli ;  also,  a  mound  to  hinder 
inundation. 

5  PRE-Dfis'TiNED.      Decreed  J   foreojs 

dained ;  preordained. 


C VIII.  — APPEAL   FOR  IRELAND. 

Henry  Clay. 

{Henry  Clay,  an  eminent  American  statesman  and  orator,  was  born  in  the 
county  of  Hanover,  Virginia,  April  12,  1777,  and  died  June  29,  1852.  In  his 
twenty-first  year  he  removed  to  Kentucky,  and  commenced  the  practice  of  law. 
In  1800  he  was  chosen  to  the  Senate  of  the  United  States,  to  fill  a  vacancy,  mid 
from  this  time  to  that  of  his  death  he  was  almost  always  in  tlie  service  of  liis 
country,  as  member  of  the  House  of  Representatives  or  of  the  Senate.  During 
the  presidency  of  John  Quincy  Adams,  he  was  Secretary  of  State.  He  was  a 
man  of  commanding  eloquence,  powerful  understanding,  energetic  will,  and 
peculiarly  fascinating  manners.  The  following  piece  is  from  a  speech  delivered 
by  him  at  New  Orleans,  February  4,  1847.] 

1.  Mr.  President  :  If  we  were  to  hear  that  large  num- 
bers of  the  inhabitants  of  Asia,  or  Africa,  or  Australia,  or 
the  remotest-  part  of  the  globe,  were  daily  dying  with 
hunger  and  famine, — no  matter  what  their  color,  what 
their    religion,   or  what    their  civilization, — we    should 


S56  THE   FIFTH  READER. 

deeply  lament  their  condition,  and  be  irresistibly  prompted 
to  mitigate ',  if  possible,  their  sufferings, 

2.  But  it  is  not  the  distresses  of  any  such  distant 
regions  that  have  summoned  us  together  on  this  occasion. 
Tlie  appalling  and  heart-rending  distresses  of  Ireland  and 
Irishmen  form  the  object  of  our  present  consultation. 
That  Ireland,  which  has  been,  in  all  the  vicissitudes ' 
of  our  national  existence,  our  friend,  and  has  ever  ex- 
tended to  us  her  warmest  sympathy  —  those  Irishmen, 
who,  in  every  war  in  which  we  have  been  engaged,  on 
every  battle-field,  from  Quebec  to  Monterey,  have  stood 
by  us,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  and  shared  in  all  the  perils 
and  fortunes  of  the  conflict. 

3.  The  imploring  appeal  comes  to  us  from  the  Irish 
nation,  which  is  so  identified  with  our  own  as  to  be 
almost  part  and  parcel  of  ours,  bone  of  our  bone  and  flesh 
of  our  flesh.  Nor  is  it  any  ordinary  case  of  human  misery, 
or  a  few  isolated^  cases  of  death  by  starvation,  that  we 
are  called  upon  to  consider.  Famine  is  stalking*  abroad 
throughout  Ireland;  whole  towns,  counties  —  countless 
human  beings,  of  every  age,  and  of  both  sexes  —  at  this 
very  moment  are  starving,  or  in  danger  of  starving,  to 
death. 

4.  Behold  the  wretched  Irish  mother,  —  with  haggard 
looks  and  streaming  eyes,  —  her  famished  children  cling- 
ing to  her  tattered  garments,  and  gazing  piteously  in  her 
face,  begging  for  food !  And  see  the  distracted  husband 
and  father,  with  palid  cheeks,  standing  by,  horror  and 
despair  depicted  in  his  countenance  —  tortured  with  the 
reflection*  that  he  can  afford  no  succor  or  relief  to  the 
dearest  objects  of  his  heart,  about  to  be  snatched  forever 
from  him  by  the  most  cruel  of  all  deaths  I 

5.  This  is  no  fancy  picture ;  but,  if  we  are  to  credit  the 
terrible  accounts  which  reach  us  from  that  theatre  of 
misery  and    wretchedness,   is    one   of 'daily  occurrence, 


THE   FIFTH  READER. 


357 


Indeed,  no  imagination  can  conceive,  no  tongue  express, 
no  pencil  paint  the  horrors  of  the  scenes  which  are 
there  daily  exhibited, 

6.  Shall  starving  Ireland  plead  in  vain  ?-^  shall  the 
young  and  the  old  —  dying  women  and  children  —  stretch 
out  their  hands  to  us  for  bread,  and  find  no  relief?  Will 
not  this  great  city,  the  world's  storehouse  of  an  exhaust- 
less  supply  of  all  kinds  of  food,  borne  to  its  overflowing 
w\ni'ehouses  by  the  Father  of  Waters,*  act,  on  this  occasion, 
in  a  manner  worthy  of  its  high  destiny,  and  obey  the 
noble  impulses  of  the  generous  hearts  of  its  blessed 
inhabitants  ? 


i  MtT  i-GATE.      Render  less  severe ; 

soften  ;  alletriate. 
2  Vi-cis'si-TUDE§.    Changes, 
i  i§'9-LAT-Jf  D.    Detached  ;  separate. 


4  Stalk'ing.   Walking  proudly,  as  on 

stilts. 

5  Re-flEc'tiqn.      Thought    thrown 

back  upon  the  past ;  mxKiitation. 


CIX,  — A  GOOD   DAUGHTER. 

Palfrey. 

[John  Gorham  Palfrey  is  a  native  of  Boston.  He  was  for  many  years  a  set- 
tled clergyman  in  his  native  city,  and  afterwards  a  professor  in  the  Divinity 
School  of  Harvard  College,  lletiring  from  the  pulpit,  lie  was,  for  tliree  years, 
Secretary  of  State  in  Massachusetts,  and  was  cliosen  to  Congress  in  1847o  He  is 
the  author  of  a  History  of  New  England,  of  "  Lectures  on  the  Jewish  Scrip- 
tures and  Antiquities,"  and  various  other  works.] 

1.  A  GOOD  daughter! — there  are  other  ministries^  of 
ove,  more  conspicuous  than  hers,  but  none  in  which  a 
gentler,  lovelier  spirit  dwells,  and  none  to  which  the 
heart's  warm  requitals  ^  more  joyfully  respond.  There  is  no 
8uch  thing  as  a  comparative  estimate  of  a  parent's  affec- 
tion for  one  or  another  child.  There  is  little  which  he 
needs  to  covet,  to  whom  the  treasure  of  a  good  child  has 
been  given. 

*  A  name  sometimes  given  to  the  Mississippi  Uiver. 


358  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

2.  But  a  son's  occupations  and  pleasures  carry  him 
jnore  abroad ;  and  he  lives  more  among  temptations, 
which  hardly  permit  the  affection  that  is  following  him, 
perhaps  over  half  the  globe,  to  be  wholly  unmingled  with 
anxiety,  till  the  time  when  he  comes  to  relinquish  the 
ishelter  of  his  father's  roof  for  one  of  his  own ;  while  a 
good  daughter  is  the  steady  light  of  her  parent's  house. 

3.  Her  idea  is  indissolubly  ^  connected  with  that  of  his 
happy  fireside.  She  is  his  morning  sunlight,  and  his  even- 
ing-star. The  grace,  and  vivacity,  and  tenderness  of  her 
sex,  have  their  place  in  the  mighty  sway  which  she  holds 
over  his  spirit.  The  lessons  of  recorded  wisdom,  which 
he  reads  with  her  eyes,  come  to  his  mind  with  a  new 
charm,  as  they  blend  with  the  beloved  melody  of  her  voice. 
He  scarcely  knows  weariness  which  her  song  does  not 
make  him  forget,  or  gloom  which  is  proof  against  the 
young  brightness  of  her  smile.  She  is  the  pride  and  orna- 
ment of  his  hospitality  \  and  the  gentle  nurse  of  his  sick- 
ness, and  the  constant  agent  in  those  nameless,  numberless 
acts  of  kindness,  which  one  chiefly  cares  to  have  rendered, 
because  they  are  unpretending  but  all-expressive  proofs 
of  love. 

4.  And  then  what  a  cheerful  sharer  is  she,  and  what  an 
able  lightener,  of  a  mother's  cares !  What  an  ever-present 
delight  and  triumph  to  a  mother's  affection !  O,  how  little 
do  those  daughters  know  of  the  power  which  God  has 
committed  to  them,  and  the  happiness  God  would  have 
them  enjoy,  who  do  not,  every  time  that  a  parent's  eye 
rests  on  them,  bring  rapture  ^  to  a  parent's  heart  1 

5.  A  true  love  will,  almost  certainly,  always  greet  their 
approaching  steps.  That  they  will  hardly  alienate.  But 
their  ambition  should  be,  not  to  have  it  a  love  merely 
which  feelings  implanted  by  nature  excite,  but  one  made 
intense  and  overflowing  by  approbation  of  worthy  con- 
duct ;  and  she  is  strangely  bhnd  to  her  own  happiness^ 


THE   FIFTH   READER. 


359 


as  well  as  undutiful  to  them  to  whom  she  owes  the  most, 
in  whom  the  perpetual  appeals  of  parental  disinterested- 
ness do  not  call  forth  the  prompt  and  full  echo  of  filial 
devotion. 


1  MlN'is-TRiEij.         Acts;      Bervices; 

offices. 
«  RE-QuI'TAii,     Reward;  recompense. 
»  fu-Dls'sg-LV-BLY.    Inseparably. 


4  H6s-pj-tXl,'i-ty.   Attention  or  kind. 

ness  to  strangers  ;  generous  enter- 
tainment of  guests. 
6  RiPT'VRE.    Excessive  joy. 


ex.  — ARMY  HYMN. 

O.  W.  Holmes. 

1.  O  Lord  of  Hosts  !    Almighty  King ! 
Behold  the  sacrifice  we  bring ! 

To  every  arm  thy  strength  impart, 
Thy  Spirit  shed  through  every  heart. 

2.  Wake  in  our  breasts  the  living  fires, 
The  holy  faith,  that  warmed  our  sires; 
Thy  hand  hath  made  our  nation  free ; 
To  die  for  her  is  serving  thee. 

3.  Be  thou  a  pillared  flame  to  show 
The  midnight  snare,  the  silent  foe ; 
And  when  the  battle  thunders  loud, 
Still  guide  us  in  its  moving  cloud. 

4.  God  of  all  Nations !    Sovereign  Lord ! 
In  thy  dread  name  we  draw  the  sword  j 
We  lift  the  starry  flag  on  high. 

That  fills  with  light  our  stormy  sky. 

5.  From  treason's  rent,  from  murder's  stain. 
Guard  thou  its  folds  till  Peace  shall  reign  j 
Till  fort  and  field,  till  shore  and  sea. 
Join  our  loud  anthem,  —  Praise  to  Thee  I 


860  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

CXL  — THE  MINSTREL  BOY. 

THOMA3  Moore. 

1.  The  minstrel  boy  to  the  war  is  gone ; 

In  the  ranks  of  Death  you'll  find  him. 
His  father's  sword  he  has  girded  on, 

And  his  wild  harp  slung  behind  him. 
"Land  of  song,"  said  the  warrior-bard, 

"  Though  all  the  world  betrays  thee, 
One  sword,  at  least,  thy  rights  shall  guard, 

One  faithful  harp  shall  praise  thee." 

2.  The  minstrel  fell :  but  the  foeman's  chain 

Could  not  bring  his  proud  soul  under. 
The  harp  he  loved  ne'er  spoke  again, 

For  he  tore  its  chords  asunder. 
And  said,  "  No  chains  shall  sully  thee, 

Thou  soul  of  love  and  bravery ; 
Thy  songs  were  made  for  the  pure  and  the  free  j 

They  never  shall  sound  in  slavery," 


CXIL  — THE  GREEKS  AT  THERMOPYL^ 

Bykon. 

[George  Gordon  Noel  Byron,  Lord  Byron,  was  bom  in  London  in  1788,  and 
6ied  in  Greece  in  1824.  Lord  Byron  has  written  much  poetry  of  singular  power 
and  fascination,  and  much  which  is  unworthy  of  his  great  genius.] 

TiiEY  fell  devoted,  but  undying  ; 
The  very  gale  their  names  seemed  sighing ; 
The  waters  murmured  of  their  name ; 
The  woods  were  peopled  with  their  fame ; 
The  silent  pillar,  lone  and  gray. 
Claimed  kindred  with  their  sacred  clay ; 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  361 

Their  spirits  wrapped  the  dusky  mountain ; 
Their  memory  sparkled  o'er  the  fountain  ; 
The  meanest  rill,  the  mightiest  river, 
Rolled  mingling  with  their  fame  forever. 
Despite  of  every  yoke  she  bears, 
The  land  is  glory's  still  and  theirs. 
'Tis  still  a  watchword  to  the  earth  : 
When  man  would  do  a  deed  of  worth, 
He  points  to  Greece,  and  turns  to  tread, 
So  sanctioned,  on  the  tyrant's  head ; 
He  looks  to  her,  and  rushes  on 
Where  life  is  lost,  or  freedom  won. 


CXm.  — LABOR  AND   GENIUS. 

Sydney  Smith. 

[Sydney  Smith,  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England,  was  bom  in  1771,  and 
died  in  1845.  His  miscellaneous  writings,  comprising  essays,  reviews,  and  OC' 
casional  pieces,  are  chanicterized  by  a  hapiiy  combination  of  strong  sense  and 
brilliant  wit.  He  also  wrote  two  volumes  of  sermons,  and,  since  his  death,  a 
volume  of  "  Lectures  on  Moral  Philosophy  "  has  been  published  by  his  family.] 

1.  The  prevailing  idea  with  young  people  has  been,  the 
incompatibility*  of  labor  and  genius;  and,  therefore,  from 
the  fear  of  being  thought  dull,  they  have  thought  it  neces- 
sary to  remain  ignorant.  I  have  seen,  at  school  and  at 
college,  a  great  many  young  men  completely  destroyed  by 
having  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  produce  an  excellent 
copy  of  verses.  Their  genius  being  now  established,  all 
that  remained  for  them  to  do,  was  to  act  up  to  the  dignity 
of  the  character;  and  as  this  dignity  consisted  in  reading 
nothing  new,  in  forgetting  what  they  had  already  read, 
and  in  pretending  to  be  acquainted  with  all  subjects  by  a 
sort  of  off-hand  exertion  of  talents,  they  soon  collapsed' 
into  the  most  frivolous  and  insisfnificaiit  of  men. 

o 

31 


3G2  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

2.  It  would  be  an  extremely  profitable  thing  to  draw  up 
a  short  and  well-authenticated  account  of  the  habits  of 
Btudy  of  the  most  celebrated  writers  with  whose  style  of 
literary  industry  we  happen  to  be  most  acquainted.  It 
would  go  very  far  to  destroy  the  absurd  and  pernicious' 
association  of  genius  and  idleness,  by  showing  that  the 
greatest  poets,  orators,  statesmen,  and  historians  —  men 
of  the  most  brilliant  and  imposing  talents  —  have  actually 
labored  as  hard  as  the  makers  of  dictionaries  and  the 
arrangers  of  indexes;  and  that  the  most  obvious  reason 
why  they  have  been  superior  to  other  men  is,  that  they 
have  taken  more  pains  than  other  men. 

3.  Gibbon  was  in  his  study  every  morning,  winter  and 
summer,  at  six  o'clock :  Burke  w^as  the  most  laborious  and 
indefatigable*  of  human  beings:  Leibnitz*  was  never  out 
of  his  library:  Pascal  killed  himself  by  study:  Cicero  nar- 
rowly escaped  death  from  the  same  cause  :  Milton  was  at 
his  books  with  as  much  regularity  as  a  merchant  or  an  attor- 
ney ;  he  had  mastered  all  the  knowledge  of  his  time :  so 
had  Homer.  Kaphael  lived  but  thirty-seven  years;  and 
in  that  short  space  carried  the  art  of  painting  so  far  beyond 
what  it  had  before  reached,  that  he  appears  to  stand  alone 
as  a  model  to  his  successors. 

4.  There  are  instances  to  the  contrary ;  but,  generally 
speaking,  the  life  of  all  truly  great  men  has  been  a  life  of 
intense  and  incessant*  labor.  They  have  commonly  passed 
the  first  half  of  life  in  the  gross  darkness  of  indigent 
humility  —  overlooked,  mistaken,  contemned  by  weaker 
men,  —  thinking  while  others  slept,  reading  while  others 
rioted,  feeling  something  within  them  that  told  them  they 
ehould  not  always  be  kept  down  among  the  dregs  of  the 
world;  and  then,  when  their  time  has  come,  and  some 
little  accident  has  given  them  their  first  occasion,  they 
Lave  burst  out  into  the  light  and  glory  of  public  life,  rich 

*  Pronounced  LIb'nitz. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  363 

with  the  spoils  of  time,  and  mighty  in  all  the  labors  and 
Struggles  of  the  mind. 

5.  Then  do  the  multitude  cry  out,  "  A  miracle  of  genius ! " 
Yes,  he  is  a  miracle  of  genius,  because  he  is  a  miracle  of 
labor ;  because,  instead  of  trusting  to  the  resources  of  his 
own  single  mind,  he  has  ransacked  a  thousand  minds ; 
because  he  makes  use  of  the  accumulated  wisdom  of  ages, 
and  takes,  as  his  point  of  departure,  the  very  last  line  and 
boundary  to  which  science  has  advanced ;  because  it  has 
ever  been  the  object  of  his  life  to  assist  every  intellectual 
gift  of  nature,  however  munificent^,  and  however  splendid, 
with  every  resource  that  art  could  suggest,  and  every 
attention  diligence  could  bestow. 

6.  But,  while  I  am  descanting'  upon  the  conduct  of  the 
understanding,  and  the  best  mode  of  acquiring  knowledge, 
some  men  may  be  disposed  to  ask,  "  Why  conduct  my 
understanding  with  such  endless  care  ?  and  what  is  the  use 
of  so  much  knowledge  ? "  What  is  the  use  of  so  much 
knowledge  ?  What  is  the  use  of  so  much  life  ?  What  are 
we  to  do  with  the  seventy  years  of  existence  allotted  to 
us?  and  how  are  we  to  live  them  out  to  the  last? 

7.  I  solemnly  declare  that,  but  for  the  love  of  knowl- 
edge, I  should  consider  the  life  of  the  meanest  hedger  and 
ditcher  as  preferable  to  that  of  the  greatest  and  richest 
man  in  existence  ;  for  the  fire  of  our  minds  is  like  the  fire 
wdiich  the  Persians  burn  on  the  mountains  :  it  flames  night 
and  day,  and  is  immortal,  and  not  to  be  quenched !  Upon 
something  it  must  act  and  feed  —  upon  the  pure  spirit  of 
knowledge,  or  upon  the  foul  dregs  of  polluting  passions. 

8.  Therefore,  when  I  say,  in  conducting  your  under- 
standing, love  knowledge  with  a  great  love,  with  a  vehe- 
ment love,  w^ith  a  love  coeval  ^  with  life,  what  do  I  say  but 
love  innocence,  love  virtue,  love  purity  of  conduct,  lovo 
that  which,  if  you  are  rich  and  great,  will  vindicate  the 
blind  fortune  which  has  made  you  so,  and  make  men  call 


364 


THE   FIFTH  READER. 


it  justice  •,  love  that  which,  if  you  are  poor,  will  render 
your  poverty  respectable,  and  make  the  proudest  feci  it 
unjust  to  laugh  at  the  meanness  of  your  fortunes ;  love 
that  which  will  comfort  you,  adorn  you,  and  never  quit 
you,  —  which  will  open  to  you  the  kingdom  of  thought, 
and  all  the  boundless  regions  of  conception,  as  an  asylum 
against  the  cruelty,  the  injustice,  and  the  pain  that  may 
be  your  lot  in  the  outer  world,  —  that  which  will  make 
your  motives  habitually  great  and  honorable,  and  light  up 
in  an  instant  a  thousand  noble  disdains  at  the  very  thought 
of  meanness  and  of  fraud. 

9.  Therefore,  if  any  young  man  have  embarked  his  life 
in  pursuit  of  knowledge,  let  him  go  on  without  doubting 
or  fearing  the  event ;  let  him  not  be  intimidated  by  the 
cheerless  beginnings  of  knowledge,  by  the  darkness  from 
which  she  springs,  by  the  difficulties  which  hover  around 
her,  by  the  wretched  habitations  in  which  she  dwells,  by 
the  want  and  sorrow  which  sometimes  journey  in  her  train ; 
but  let  him  ever  follow  her  as  the  Angel  that  guards  him, 
and  as  the  Genius  of  his  life.  She  will  bring  him  out  at 
last  into  the  light  of  day,  and  exhibit  him  to  the  world 
comprehensive  in  acquirements,  fertile  in  resources,  rich  in 
imagination,  strong  in  reasoning,  prudent  and  powerful 
above  his  fellows  in  all  the  relations  and  in  all  the  offices 
of  life. 


1  In-cqm-pXt-i-bTl'i-tv.  state  or 
quality  of  a  thing  which  prevents 
It  from  harmonizing  with  some- 
thing else  ;  inconsistency  j  4isa- 
greement. 

«  Cql-lXpsed'.  Fell  together,  as  the 
sides  of  a  hollow  vessel ;  shrunk 
up;  dwindled. 

'  PjpR-Nl"ciovs.  Mischievous,  hurt- 
ftij,  or  evil,  in  a  high  degree. 


4  .tN-D?-FAT'l  GABLE.      IflCapaWe   of 

being  exhausted  or  wearied  j  per- 
severing. 
6  iN-c£s'sANT.  Unceasing ;  continnal. 

6  Mv-nif'j-cent.    Bountiful;  liberal; 

generous. 

7  DES-cXNT'|Na,    Discoursing;  mak- 

ing remarks ;  commenting. 

8  C5-E'v^L.    Of  the  gai»e  ag^e;  coiv 

temporary. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  365 

CXI  v.  — BARBARA  FRIETCHIE. 

Whittier. 

[On  the  6th  clay  of  September,  1862,  the  city  of  Frederick,  in  Maryland,  was  taken 
possession  of  by  a  detachment  of  the  rebel  army  under  the  command  of  General 
Thomas  Jonathan  Jackson,  more  generally  known  as  "  Stonewall  Jackson."  The  inci- 
dent of  the  waving  of  the  flag  by  Barbara  Frictchie,  a  lady  of  very  advanced  age, 
took  place  precisely  as  the  poet  has  narrated  it.  It  was  one  of  those  noble  deeds  of 
courage  which  supply  at  once  theme  and  inspiration.] 

1  Up  from  the  meadows  rich  witli  corn, 
Clear  in  the  cool  September  morn, 
The  clustered  spires  of  Frederick  stand 
Green-walled  by  the  hills  of  Maryland. 
Round  about  them  orchards  sweep, 
Apple  and  peach-tree  fruited  deep, 
Fair  as  a  garden  of  the  Lord 

To  the  eyes  of  the  famished  rebel  horde, 
On  that  pleasant  morn  of  the  early  fall 
When  Lee  marched  over  the  mountain-wall,  — 
Over  the  mountains  winding  down. 
Horse  and  foot,  into  Frederick  town. 

2  Forty  flags  with  their  silver  stars, 
Forty  flags  with  their  crimson  bars. 
Flapped  in  the  morning  wind  :  tiie  sun 
Of  noon  looked  down,  and  saw  not  one. 
Up  rose  old  Barbara  Frietchie  then. 
Bowed  with  her  fourscore  years  and  ten ; 
Bravest  of  all  in  Frederick  town, 

She  took  up  the  flag  the  men  hauled  down  j 
In  her  attic  window  the  staff  she  set, 
To  show  that  one  heart  was  loyal  yet. 
Up  the  street  came  the  rebel  tread, 
Stonewall  Jackson  riding  ahead. 

8  Under  his  slouched  hat  left  and  right 
He  glanced  :  the  old  flag  met  his  sight. 
31* 


306  THE  Firm  ukadeii. 

"  Halt ! "  —  the  dust-brown  ranks  stood  fast. 
«  Fire  ! "  —  out  blazed  the  rifle-blast. 
It  shivered  the  window,  pane  and  sash ; 
It  rent  the  banner  with  seam  and  gash. 
Quick,  as  it  fell,  from  the  broken  staff 
Dame  Barbara  snatched  the  silken  scarf; 
She  leaned  far  out  on  the  window-sill, 
And  shook  it  forth  with  a  royal  will. 
**  Shoot,  if  you  must,  this  old  gray  head, 
But  spare  your  country's  flag,"  she  said. 

4  A  shade  of  sadness,  a  blush  of  shame, 
Over  the  face  of  the  leader  came ; 
The  nobler  nature  within  him  stirred 
To  life  at  that  woman's  deed  and  word : 
"  Who  touches  a  hair  of  yon  gray  head 
Dies  like  a  dog !    March  on ! "  he  said. 
All  day  long  through  Frederick  street 
Sounded  the  tread  of  marching  feet ; 
All  day  long  that  free  flag  tossed 
Over  the  heads  of  the  rebel  host. 

Ever  its  torn  folds  rose  and  fell 
On  the  loyal  winds  that  loved  it  well ; 
And  through  the  hill-gaps  sunset  light 
Shone  over  it  with  a  warm  good  night. 

5  Barbara  Frietchie's  work  is  o'er, 

And  the  rebel  rides  on  his  raids  no  more, 
Honor  to  her !   and  let  a  tear 
Fall,  for  her  sake,  on  Stonewall's  bier. 
Over  Barbara  Frietchie's  grave 
Flag  of  Freedom  and  Union,  wave  I 
Peace,  ftnd  order,  and  beauty,  draw 
Round  thy  symbol  of  light  and  law ; 
And  ever  the  stars  above  look  down 
On  thy  stars  below  in  Frederick  town ! 


THE    FIFTH   READER.  S67 

CXV.  — THE   RELIGIOUS   CHARACTER   OF 
PRESIDENT  LINCOLN. 

Rev.  p.  D.  Gukley,  D.  D. 

fThe  following  is  an  extract  from  the  discourse  pronounced  at  the  funeral  of  Pres- 
ident Lincoln,  at  Washington,  on  Wednesday,  April  19,  1865,  by  the  Piev.  P.  D.  Gnr- 
ley,  D.  D.,  pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  where  the  deceased  was  in  the  liabit 
of  attending  public  worship.] 

1.  Probably  no  man  since  the  days  of  Washington  was 
ever  so  deeply  enshrined  in  the  hearts  of  the  American 
people  as  Abraham  Lincoln.  Nor  was  it  a  mistaken  con- 
fidence and  love.  He  deserved  it  all.  He  deserved  it  by 
his  character,  by  the  whole  tenor,  tone,  and  spirit  of  his 
life.  He  was  simple,  sincere,  plain,  honest,  truthful,  just, 
benevolent,  and  kind.  His  perceptions  were  quick  and 
clear,  his  judgments  calm  and  accurate,  and  his  purposes 
good  and  pure  beyond  all  question.  Always  and  every- 
where he  aimed  both  to  be  right  and  to  do  right.  His  in- 
tegrity was  all  pervading,  all  controlling,  and  incorruptible. 
As  the  chief  magistrate  of  a  great  and  imperilled  people, 
he  rose  to  the  dignity  and  momentousness  of  the  occasion, 
lie  saw  his  duty,  and  he  determined  to  do  his  whole  duty, 
seeking  the  guidance  and  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  Him 
of  whom  it  is  written,  "  He  giveth  power  to  the  faint,  and 
to  them  that  have  no  might  he  increaseth  strength." 

2.  I  speak  what  I  know  when  I  affirm  that  His  guidance 
was  the  prop  on  which  he  humbly  and  habitually  leaned. 
It  was  the  best  hope  he  had  for  himself  and  his  country. 
"When  he  was  leaving  his  home  in  Illinois,  and  coming 
to  this  city  to  take  his  seat  in  the  executive  chair  of  a 
disturbed  and  troubled  nation,  he  said  to  the  old  and  tried 
friends  who  gathered  tearfully  around  him  and  bade  him 
farewell,  "  I  leave  you  with  this  request,  —  pray  for  me." 
They  did  pray  for  him,  and  millions  of  others  prayed  for 
him.    Nor  did  they  pray  in  vain.    Their  prayers  wero 


368  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

heard.  The  answer  shines  forth  with  a  heavenly  radiance  * 
in  the  whole  course  and  tenor  of  his  administration  *,  from 
its  commencement  to  its  close. 

3.  God  raised  him  up  for  a  great  and  glorious  mission '. 
He  furnished  him  for  his  work  and  aided  him  in  its  ac- 
complishment. He  gave  him  strength  of  mind,  honesty  of 
heart,  and  purity  and  pertinacity  *  of  purpose.  In  addition 
to  these  He  gave  him  also  a  calm  and  abiding  confidence 
in  an  overruling  Providence,  and  in  the  ultimate  *  triumph 
of  truth  and  righteousness  through  the  power  and  blessing 
of  God.  This  confidence  strengthened  him  in  his  hours 
of  anxiety  and  toil,  and  inspu-ed  him  with  a  calm  and 
cheerful  hope  when  others  were  despondent. 

4.  Never  shall  I  forget  the  emphasis  and  the  deej)  emo- 
tion, with  which,  in  this  very  room,  he  said  to  a  company 
of  clergymen,  who  had  called  to  pay  him  their  respects,  in 
the  darkest  hour  of  our  civil  conflict,  "Gentlemen,  my  hope 
of  success  in  this  great  and  terrible  struggle  rests  on  that 
immutable®  foundation,  the  justice  and  goodness  of  God. 
Even  now,  when  the  events  seem  most  threatening,  and  the 
prospects  dark,  I  still  hope  that  in  some  way  which  man 
cannot  see,  all  will  be  well  in  the  end,  and  that  as  our  cause 
is  just,  God  is  on  our  side." 

5.  Such  was  his  sublime  and  holy  faith.  It  was  an 
anchor  to  his  soul  both  sure  and  steadfast.  It  made 
him  firm  and  strong.  It  emboldened  him  in  the  rugged 
and  perilous  pathway  of  duty.  It  made  him  valiant  for 
the  right,  for  the  cause  of  God  and  humanity.  It  held  him 
in  steady,  patient,  and  unswerving  adherence  to  a  policy 
which  he  thought,  and  which  we  all  now  think,  both  God 
and  humanity  required  him  to  adopt. 

6.  We  admired  his  child-like  simplicity,  his  freedom  from 
guile  and  deceit,  his  stanch  and  sterling'  integrity,  his 
kind  and  forgiving  temper,  and  his  persistent,  self-sacrificing 
devotion  to  all  the  duties  of  his  eminent  position.    We 


THE   FIFTH  READa 


873 


admired  his  readint  -.  ^^^^  ^^^  ^ill 

the  poor,  the  humble, -^^.m-R]   rpQ   ^^"^ 

and  his  readiness  to  spend  ai.  -vt>v   ]yTT7>T 

of  that  great  triumph,  the  blesscv.  -atness 

as  wide  spreading  as  the  earth,  and  u 

7.  All  these  things  commanded  n.^tncky^nmi^^eidtoaH^ 
world,  and  stamped  upon  his  life  and  character.  Dosti 
takable  impress  of  true  ejreatness.     More  subliin°*\ 

.  ...  ™seL 

these,  more  holy  and  beautiful,  was  his  abiding  c',  wa- 
in God,  and  in  the  final  triumph  of  truth  and  ri^''' 
ness  through  him  and  for  his  sake.     The  friends 
erty  and  the  Union  will  repair  to  his  consecrated'*  gheiiea 
through  ages  yet  to  come,  to  pronounce  the  memory  of  its 
occupant  blessed,  and  to  gather  from  his  ashes  and  the 
rehearsal  of  his  virtues  fresh  incentives  to  patriotism,  and 
there  renew  their  vows  of  fidelity  to  their  country  and 
their  God. 


1  Ra'di-ance.    Sparkling  lustre. 

8  Ad-M}n-!s-tra'ti9N.      Government 

of  public  affairs. 
»  MIs'siQN.  Duty  on  wliich  one  is  sent ; 

also,  persons  sent  to  perform  any 

service. 


4  rER-Ti-NA^'i-TY.   Constancy;  stead- 

iness. 

5  Cl'ti-mate.    Final ;  last. 

c  im-mu'ta-ble.    Unchangeable. 

7  Ster'ling.    Genuine;  true. 

8  Con's5-crat-ed.    Made  sacred. 


CXVI.  — CLARIBEL'S   PRAYER. 

Lynde  Palmer. 

The  day,  with  cold,  gray  feet,  clung  shivering  to  the  hills. 
While  o'er  the  valley  still  night's  rain- fringed  curtains  fell  > 

But  "vvaking  Blue  Eyes  smiled,  "  'Tis  ever  as  God  wills  ; 
He  knoweth  best ;  and  be  it  rain  or  shine,  'tis  well. 
Praise  God  !  "  cried  always  little  Claribel. 


Then  sank  she  on  her  knees,  with  eager,  lifted  hands  ; 
Her  rosy  lips  made  haste  some  dear  request  to  tell : 

•'  O  Father,  smile,  and  save  this  fairest  of  all  lands, 

And  make  her  free,  whatever  hearts  rebel.  -'y  tnO 

Amen  !     Praise  God  !  "  cried  little  Claribel.  aimed  in 


368  THE   FIFTH  READER. 

heard.     The  answer  shines  forth  wi^v^f ^^"^S  P^^y^^.  - 

-  .     ,  -  .-X  of  shot  and  shell. 

in  the  whole  course  and  ten-^,^  ^^^^.^^  streaming  hair, 
its  commencement  to  its  fvveet  eyes  I  love  so  well. 

3.  God  raised  him  ^ 
He  furnished  him  fr.t  that  when  the  glorious  fight  is  done, 
C0mi)Ushment       "-fiinson  sky  the  shouts  of  Freedom  swell, 
.  T    .^t  there  be  no  nobler  victor  'neath  the  sun 

'  '    lan  he  whose  golden  hair  I  love  so  well. 
to  these^^en !     Praise  God ! "  cried  little  Claribel. 
in  an  c 

of  tru^^en  gray  and  dreary  day  shook  hands  with  grayer  night, 
of  Gr  '^^^  heavy  air  was  thrilled  with  clangor  of  a  bell, 
r.      "  O,  shout ! "  the  herald  cried,  his  worn  eyes  brimmed  with  light : 
•»  'Tis  victory  !     O,  what  glorious  news  to  tell !  " 
"  Praise  God  !     He  heard  my  prayer,"  cried  Claribel. 

6.  "  But,  pray  you,  soldier,  was  my  brother  In  the  fight  ? 

And  in  the  fiery  rain  ?     O,  fought  he  brave  and  well  ? " 
««  Dear  child,"  the  herald  cried,  "  there  was  no  braver  sight 
Than  his  young  form,  so  grand  'mid  shot  and  shell." 
♦'  Praise  God !  "  cried  trembling  little  Claribel. 

6.  "  And  rides  he  now  with  victor's  plumes  of  red. 

While  trumpets'  golden  tluroats  his  coming  steps  foretell  ?  " 
The  herald  dropped  a  tear.     "  Dear  child,"  he  softly  said, 
"  Thy  brother  evermore  with  conquerors  shall  dwell." 
«« Praise  God !     He  heard  my  prayer,"  cried  Claribel. 

7.  "  With  victors  wearing  crowns,  and  bearing  palms"  he  said. 

A  snow  of  sudden  fear  upon  the  rose  lips  fell. 
"  O,  sweetest  herald,  say  my  brother  lives"  she  plead. 

«*  Dear  child,  he  walks  with  angels,  who  in  strength  excel. 
Praise  God,  who  gave  this  glory,  Claribel." 

t.  The  cold,  gray  day  died  sobbing  on  the  weary  hills. 

While  bitter  mourning  on  the  night  wind  rose  and  fell. 
<*  O,  child,"  —  the  herald  wept,  —  "  'tis  as  the  dear  Lord  wills: 
He  knoweth  best,  and,  be  it  life  or  death,  'tis  well" 
"  Amen  !     Praise  God  !  "  sobbed  little  Claribel. 

devoi. 


THE   FIFTH  EEADx  373 

■'•.  must  and  will 
CXVIL  — OBEDIENCE   TO   LAW   . 

OF   GOOD  MEN. 

J.   HOLT.  ^^*°^««' 

[Joseph  IIoU  was  born  in  Breckenrldge  county,  Kentucky,  in  1807.   aeld  to  aV' 
practice  of  tlie  law  in  1828.     Upon  the  accession  of  Mr.  Buchanan  to  ♦ 
he  was  appointed  commissioner  of  patents,  and  in  1859  became  posti 
In  December,  1860,  ho  was  made  secretary  of  war,  and  held  the  office  unti 
March.    Returning  to  his  native  state  of  Kentucky,  he  devoted  himseh 
energy  and  ardor  to  the  cause  of  the  Union.     In  September,  1862,  he  wa- 
judge-advocate  general  of  the  army,  which  office  he  has  held  ever  since.    T- 
is  an  extract  from  a  speech  delivered  at  Louisville,  Kentucky,  July  13,  Ibi.  . 

1.  With  the  curled  lip  of  scorn  we  are  told  by  theiiea 
unionists,  that,  in  thus  supporting  a  republican  admimv 
tration  in  its  endeavors  to  uphold  the  constitution  and  the 
laws,  we  are  "  submissionists  ; "  and  when  they  have  pro- 
nounced this  word,  they  suppose  they  have  imputed  to  us 
the  sum  of  all  human  abasement.  Well,  let  it  be  con- 
fessed, we  are  "  submissionists,"  and,  weak  and  spiritless  as 
it  may  be  deemed  by  some,  we  glory  in  the  position  we 
occupy. 

2.  The  law  says,  "Thou  shalt  not  swear  falsely:"  we 
submit  to  this  law ;  and  while  in  the  civil  or  military  ser- 
vice of  the  country,  with  an  oath  to  support  the  constitu- 
tion of  the  United  States  resting  upon  our  consciences,  w& 
would  not,  for  any  earthly  consideration,  engage  in  the 
formation  or  execution  of  a  conspiracy  to  subvert  that  very 
constitution,  and  with  it  the  government  to  which  it  has 
given  birth.  Write  us  down,  therefore,  "submission- 
ists." 

8.  Nor  are  we  at  all  disturbed  by  the  flippant  *  taunt, 
that,  in  thus  submitting  to  the  authority  of  our  govern- 
ment, we  are  necessarily  cowards.  We  know  whence  this 
taunt  comes,  and  we  estimate  it  at  its  true  value.  We 
hold  that  there  is  a  higher  courage  in  the  performance  of 
duty  than  in  the  commission  of  crime.     The  tigerjy  the 

oalmed  in 


QQQ  THE    FIFTH  HEADER. 

1    ^  1      rriu^  «    '  cannibal  of  the  South  Sea  Islands  have 
heard.     1  be  an     ,  .  ^     ,  ,     .     .         ,>   ,      t  t 

•    +1  ^  ,  1.  1     -ii  which  the  revolutionists  oi  the  day  make 
in  the  whole,  ,  ,  .      n  r^    ^       ^    ^         •  .        ^ 

.lal  boast ;  the  angels  oi  God  and  the  spirits  of 
Its  comrn  '^      ,  r.       ,         ,     T        -.1  , 

q    aen  made  periect  have  had,  and  have,  that  courage 

-ry   *>  submits  to  the  law. 

•,.  cifer  was  a  non-submissionist,  and  the  first  scces- 
complis  ^    ,        ,  .  ,         . 

,  oi  whom  history  has  given  us  any  account;  and  the 

J  '^  which  he  wears  fitly  express  the  fate  due  to  all  who 

y  defy  the  laws  of  their  Creator  and  of  their  country. 

r>  .  .  belled  because  the  Almighty  would  not  yield  to  hiin 

n  ^tiroue  of  heaven.     The  principle  of  the  southern  re- 

rilion  is  the  same.     Indeed,  in  this  submission  to  the 

laws  is  found  the  chief  distinction  between  good  men  and 

devils.     A  good  man  obeys  the  laws  of  truth,  of  honesty, 

of  morality,  and  all  those  laws  which  have  been  enacted 

by  competent  authority  for  the  government  and  protection 

of  the  country  in  which  he  lives ;  a  devil  obeys  only  his 

own  ferocious  and  profligate  passions. 

5.  The  principle  on  which  this  rebellion  proceeds — that 
laws  have  in  themselves  no  sanctions,  no  binding  force 
upon  the  conscience,  and  that  every  man,  under  the 
promptings  of  interest,  or  passion,  or  caprice,  may  at 
will,  and  honorably,  too,  strike  at  the  government  that 
shelters  him  —  is  one  of  utter  demoralization^,  and  should 
be  trodden  out  as  you  would  tread  out  a  spark  that 
has  fallen  on  the  roof  of  your  dwelling.  Its  unchecked 
prevalence  would  resolve  society  into  chaos,  and  leave 
you  Mdthout  the  slightest  guarantee*  for  life,  liberty,  or 
property. 

6.  It  is  time,  that,  in  their  majesty  \  the  people  of  the 
United  States  should  make  known  to  the  world  that  this 
government,  in  its  dignity  and  power,  is  something  more 
than  a  moot-court  ^,  and  that  the  citizen  who  makes  war 
upon  it  is  a  traitor,  not  only  in  theory,  but  in  fact,  and 
^'    ^d  have   meted  out  to  him  a  traitor's   doom.      The 


THE    FIFTH   READER.  373 

country  wants  no  bloody  sacrifice,  but  it  must  and  will 
have  peace,  cost  what  it  may. 


iFlTp'p^ut.    Pert;  inconsiderate, 
2  JCn'gle.  Athicketof  shrubs,  reeds, 

or  hif^h  grass. 
8  D?-MOR-AL-i-ZA'Tipx.    Deprivation 

of  morals. 


4  GuAr-an  TEE'.    Seeiiri+Y. 

5  MAj'es  Ty.     Sovereign    greatness, 

power. 

6  M66t'-c5urt.    a  court  held  to  as^' 

gue  imaginary  cases. 


CXVIIL  — OUR  HEROES. 

John  A.  Andrew. 

[John  Albion  Andrew  was  born  in  Windham,  Maine,  May  31,  1818,  and  die<S 
October  30,  18G7.  He  was  graduated  at  Bowdoiii  College  in  1837,  and  immedi, 
ately  afterwards  began  the  study  of  the  law  in  Boston,  where,  in  1840,  he  was 
admitted  to  the  bar.  He  was  governor  of  Massachusetts  from  1861  to  1805,  in- 
clusive. He  was  a  man  of  generous  philanthrophy,  fervid  patriotic  feeling,  high 
moral  courage,  enlightened  views,  warmly  beloved  by  his  friends,  and  honored 
by  all. 

The  following  is  an  extract  from  his  inaugural  discourse  in  January,  18C4.] 

1.  The  heart  swells  with  unwonted '  emotion  when  we 
remember  our  sons  and  brothers  whose  constant  valor  has 
sustained,  on  the  field,  the  cause  of  our  country,  of  civiliza- 
tion, and  liberty.  On  the  ocean,  on  the  rivers,  on  the 
land,  on  the  heights  where  they  thundered  down  from  the 
clouds  of  Lookout  Mountain  the  defiance  of  the  skies,  they 
have  graven  with  their  swords  a  record  imperishable. 

2.  The  Muse  herself  demands  the  lapse  of  silent  yeara 
to  soflen,  by  the  influences  of  Time,  her  too  keen  and 
poignant  2  realization  of  the  scenes  of  War  —  the  pathos, 
the  heroism,  the  fierce  joy,  the  grief,  of  battle.  But,  during 
the  ages  to  come,  she  will  brood  over  their  memory.  Into 
the  hearts  of  her  consecrated  priests  she  will  breathe  the 
inspirations  of  lofty  and  undying  Beauty,  Sublimity,  and 
Tnith,  in  all  the  glowing  forms  of  speech,  of  literature, 
and  plastic  ^  art.  By  the  homely  traditions  "*  of  the  fireside, 
— by  the  head-stones  in  the  churchyard  consecrated  to 
those  whose  forms  repose  far  off  in  rude  graves  by  the 
Rappahannock,  or  sleep  beneath  the  sea,  —  embalmed  in 

32 


374  THE   FIFTH  READER. 

the  memories  of  succeeding  generations  of  parents  and 
children,  the  heroic  dead  will  live  on  in  immortal  youth. 
By  their  names,  their  character,  their  service,  their  fate, 
their  glory,  they  cannot  fail :  — 

"  They  never  fail  who  die 
In  a  great  cause;  the  block  may  soak  their  gore; 
Their  heads  may  sodden  &  in  the  sun,  their  limbs 
Be  strung  to  city  gates  and  castle  walls ; 
But  still  their  spirit  walks  abroad.    Though  years 
Elapse,  and  others  share  as  dark  a  doom, 
They  but  augment  the  deep  and  sweeping  thoughts 
"Which  overpower  all  others,  and  conduct 
The  world  at  last  to  Fuekdom." 

8.  The  edict  of  Nantes,*  maintaining  the  religious  liberty 
of  the  Huguenots,  gave  lustre  to  the  fame  of  Henry  the 
Great,  whose  name  will  gild  the  pages  of  history  after 
mankind  may  have  forgotten  the  martial  prowess  ^  and  the 
white  plume  of  Navarre.  The  great  Proclamation  of 
Liberty  will  lift  the  ruler  who  uttered  it,  our  nation  and 
our  age,  above  all  vulgar  destiny. 

4.  The  bell  f  which  rang  out  the  Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence, has  found  at  last  a  voice  articulate,  to  "  proclaim 
liberty  throughout  all  the  land  unto  all  the  inhabitants 
thereof."  It  has  been  heard  across  oceans,  and  has  mod- 
ified the  sentiments  of  cabinets  and  kings.  The  people  of 
the  Old  World  have  heard  it,  and  their  hearts  stop  to 
catch  the  last  whisper  of  its  echoes.  The  poor  slave  has 
heard  it,  and  with  bounding  joy,  tempered  by  the  mystery 
of  religion,  he  worships  and  adores.  The  waiting  conti- 
nent has  heard  it,  and  already  foresees  the  fulfilled 
prophecy,  when   she   will   sit    "redeemed,   regenerated^, 

♦  Henry,  King  of  Navarre,  was  also  heir  to  the  French  crown.  His  claim  was 
resisted,  but  after  a  bloody  struggle  he  was  successful,  and  crowned  as  Henry 
IV.  of  France.  By  an  edict  dated  at  Nantes  in  1508,  he  secured  to  the  Hugue- 
nots, or  French  Protestants,  their  civil  riglits  and  religious  liberty. 

t  The  bell  on  the  old  State  House  in  rhihxdclphia,  the  first  to  peal  forth  the 
glad  tidings  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  had  upon  it  tliis  inscription  : 
•'  Proclaim  Liberty  throughout  all  the  Land  unto  all  the  Inhabitants  thereof." 


THE    FIFTH    READER.  375 

and  disinthralled '  by  the  irresistible  Genius  of  Universal 
Emancipation. 

B  Sod'den.    To  seethe  [obsolete], 

0  Pkow':?ss.    Valor;  bravery. 

7  liE-^fiN'ER-AT-ED.     Created  aucw ; 


1  Cn-w5nt'ed.    Unusual ;  rare. 

2  PoIgk'ant.    Intense ;  sharp. 
8  PlAs'tic  art.    Sculpture. 
*  TRA-Df'TiQN.   Oral  record  transmit- 
ted from  father  to  son. 


reproduced. 
DIs-{n-thrAll.ed'.    Set  free. 


CXIX.— THE  RESPONSIBILITY  OF  AMERICAN 
CITIZENS. 

Story. 
[The  followiug  is  an  extract  from  a  discourse  in  commemoration  of  the  first  settle- 
raent  of  Salem,  Massachusetts,  delivered  Sept.  18,  1828.J 

1.  "We  stand  the  latest,  and,  if  we  fail,  probably  the  last, 
experiment  of  self-government  by  the  people.  We  have 
begun  it  under  circumstances  of  the  most  auspicious  na- 
ture. "We  are  in  the  vigor  of  youth.  Our  growth  has 
never  been  checked  by  the  oppressions  of  tyranny.  Our 
constitutions  have  never  been  enfeebled  by  the  vices  or 
luxuries  of  the  old  world.  Such  as  we  are,  we  have  been 
from  the  beginning  —  simple,  hardy,  intelligent,  accus- 
tomed to  self-government  and  self-respect.  The  Atlantic 
rolls  between  us  and  any  formidable  foe. 

2.  "Within  our  territory,  stretching  through  many  de- 
grees of  latitude  and  longitude,  we  have  the  choice  of 
many  products,  and  many  means  of  independence.  The 
government  is  mild.  The  press  is  free.  Religion  is  free. 
Knowledge  reaches,  or  may  reach,  every  home.  "What 
fairer  prospect  of  success  could  be  presented?  "What 
means  more  adequate  to  accomplish  the  sublime  end? 
"What  more  is  necessary,  than  for  the  people  to  preserve 
what  they  themselves  have  created  ? 

3.  Can  it  be  that  America,  under  such  circumstances, 
can  betray  herself?  that  she  is  to  be  added  to  the  cata- 
logue of  republics  the  inscription  upon  whose  ruins  is, 
"  They  were,  but  they  are  not "  ?  Forbid  it,  my  country- 
men !  forbid  it.  Heaven  I 


^76  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

4.  I  call  upon  you,  fathers,  by  the  shades  of  your  ances- 
tors, by  the  dear  ashes  whicli  repose  in  this  precious  soil, 
by  all  you  are  and  all  you  hope  to  be,  —  resist  every 
project  of  disunion,  resist  every  encroachment  upon  your 
liberties,  resist  every  attempt  to  fetter  your  consciences, 
or  smother  your  public  schools,  or  extinguish  your  system 
of  public  instruction. 

5.  I  call  upon  you,  mothers,  by  that  which  never  fails  in 
woman — the  love  of  your  offspring;  teach  them,  as  they 
climb  your  knees,  or  lean  on  your  bosoms,  the  blessings  of 
liberty.  Swear  them  at  the  altar,  as  with  their  baptismal 
vows,  to  be  true  to  their  country,  and  never  to  forget  or 
forsake  her. 

6.  I  call  upon  you,  young  men,  to  remember  whose  sons 
you  are,  whose  inheritance  you  possess.  Life  can  never  be 
too  short,  which  brings  nothing  but  disgrace  and  oppres- 
sion. Death  never  comes  too  soon,  if  necessary  in  defence 
of  tbe  liberties  of  your  countiy. 

7.  I  call  upon  you,  old  men,  for  your  counsels,  and  your 
prayers,  and  your  benedictions.  May  not  your  gray  hairs 
go  down  in  sorrow  to  the  grave  with  the  recollection  that 
you  have  lived  in  vain !  May  not  your  last  sun  sink  in 
the  west  upon  a  nation  of  slaves ! 

8.  The  time  of  our  departure  is  at  hand,  to  make  way 
for  our  children  upon  the  theatre  of  life.  May  God  speed 
them  and  theirs!  May  he  who,  at  the  distance  of  another 
century,  shall  stand  here,  to  celebrate  this  day,  still  look 
round  upon  a  free,  happy,  and  virtuous  people !  May  he 
have  reason  to  exult  as  we  do !  May  he,  with  all  the  en- 
thusiasm of  truth,  as  well  as  of  poetry,  exclaim  that  here 
is  still  his  country. 

"  Zealous,  yet  modest ;  innocent,  tliough  free ; 
Patient  of  toil ;  serene  amidst  alarms  ; 
Inflexible  in  faith  ;  invincible  in  arms." 


[Whole  number  of  pages,  384.] 


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